A Silver Star
by GoddessofShadow
Summary: The Claret's are silver and blood, and Leanna Claret is bound to duty by honor. But when she is thrown into a game of thrones, duty and honor do little to help her survive. Slight Robb/OC/Jon
1. Jon

**My first attempt at a Game of Thrones fanfic,… please leave a review and tell me what you think!**

"Ghost!"

"Grey Wind!"

"Where the hell are those bloody wolves?" Theon cursed, scowling as Robb and Jon called for their direwolves.

Jon squinted up at the sun before looking back down at the green around him, their horses stomping slowly through the wood.

The pups had run off while they were riding, he hadn't thought much of it either until the pups didn't return.

"Wait," Robb breathed as a white blur rushed towards them, the horses shying from the pup as it stopped before them, blinking its red eyes.

Ghost whined and pawed at the ground before turning and padding off, and then turned again, his red eyes watching them.

"He wants us to follow," Jon said, spurring his horse forward and Ghost took off running and Jon galloped after the pup, Robb and Theon at his heels. The green went by in a blur around him but he still knew the place, the Godswood.

He pulled his Garron to a stop as he approached the Weirwood, his blood turned to ice in his veins as he glanced down at the Grey Wind and Ghost, and the limp figure they nudged and whined at.

He leapt from his horse, rushing forward to the woman curled up against the Weirwood, painting the white tree red with blood. He gently turned her onto her back and Ghost licked at her face while Grey Wind whined, tossing his head restlessly.

Jon had never seen her before but he knew the crest on her tunic, the silver star of Claret. Blood matted her dark hair, sticking it to her face, it ran in streaks across her pale cheek, but it appeared to be her only wound.

Until he noticed her hip.

It stuck out, twisted all wrong and knew it must have been out of place. In her hand was a bloodied blade, made of Valyrian steel, finely crafted to be light but still strong enough to cut through armor.

The girl's lower lip was busted and swollen, slick with blood, and her hands were just a bloody, but Jon had a feeling that blood was not hers.

"Seven hells," Robb swore as he dismounted rushing to Jon's side as he had just sheathed the girl's sword, moving his arms under her to lift her.

But he froze as he moved her hip and she cried out, her eyes fluttering open but they didn't have time to even focus before they drifted close again.

"Help me get her onto my horse," Jon breathed, moving as slow and careful as he could. Jon had to pass her on to Robb as he mounted and it took both Robb and Theon to get the girl laid properly across his saddle.

This time as they rode the pups followed, racing at their horses hooves until they reached Winterfell. Jon lifted the girl into his arms once more and rushed her to the maester's tower, Robb and Theon hurrying in front of him.

"Maester Luwin!" Robb called as he pushed the door open for Jon, startling the old maester who stared wide eyed at the bloody girl in Jon's arms.

"Lay her down quickly," the maester instructed, clearing off a cot as Jon hurried to lay her down, removing her sword belt and laying it down by the foot of the cot.

"Her head and hip are the only injuries I saw," Jon said quickly as the maester scrambled about the tower, then knelt beside the girl.

"Yes, yes Jon hold her still while I replace her hip," the maester commanded then turned to Robb, "I advise you let your father know what has happened before a guard tells him first."

Robb stood oddly still for a moment and then nodded, sprinting from the room, Greywind and Theon at his heels.

Jon knelt beside the girl, taking her face in his hands, pressing his elbows into her shoulders to keep them still. He used the time to look over her face, a lean jaw, high cheekbones, full lips, long, dark lashes, and auburn hair darker than any he had ever seen before.

Her face twisted and she screamed through her teeth, gripping at the sheets on the cot as Luwin roughly shoved her leg. The pain was quickly over however and once again she went limp, her face oddly pale.

"Carefully clean her face and head while I prepare a salve," Luwin handed Jon a bowl of water and cloth, then hurried across the tower without another word.

Jon rung the cloth out until it was damp and gently brought the cloth across her mouth, washing away the blood there before moving to her cheek and neck. He bit his lip and gently pushed back her matted hair, dabbing at the gash along her hairline.

She appeared to be of age with him, and undeniably beautiful. Though her clothes were tattered, torn and bloodied he could still see her lean, yet womanly frame that made him blush and he quickly looked back to her face and froze.

She stared at him with eyes as pale as white as hot steel, they were not even grey, they burned silver, sharp and wide and wolf-like.

"Where am I?" her voice was so weak he hardly heard it and found himself leaning closer, and then quickly back.

"You are in Winterfell, you are safe," Jon assured her and she blinked at him as if struggling to keep her eyes open but they failed her and quickly unfocused, drifting closed as her body relaxed, going limp on the cot.

Jon sat back as Luwin applied the salve to her head, watching Ghost who sat at her side, sniffing at her hand that dangled over the edge of the cot, every now and then giving her hand a swift lick.

Eddard Stark was the next to enter, his eyes going to Jon and then to the girl, quickly crossing the room with Robb at his heels.

"She's a Claret," Jon said, then held up the sword he had wiped clean, turning it over in his hands, "had this with her, bloodied too."

"Lord Claret only had one daughter," Ned breathed as Luwin spread the salve across he wound, "why would she be here?"

He sighed, running his hand down his face as all he got were blank stares, "now is not the time for more trouble, King Robert rides for Winterfell as we speak."

"Jon, I leave her under your watch," Ned said before turning and leaving the room to another bought of silence.

"Well aren't you a lucky bastard," Theon finally chimed, his gaze heavy upon the girl, "I bet she's a lively one."

"You'll not touch her," Jon snapped, turning to meet Theon's grin with his glare, "I know you have a tendency for touching women."

"Alright, I get it, you want her all to yourself," Theon grinned, before turning and walking from the tower, leaving Robb and Jon.

"You know he means nothing by it, he's just Theon," Robb placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, glancing down at the girl.

"But he's not wrong about you being a lucky bastard," Robb smiled, patting Jon on the shoulder before turning, Grey Wind at his heels.

He glanced over at Ghost who had jumped up on the foot of the cot, curled up by the girl's hip, fast asleep and he smiled.

Jon watched her for what seemed like a long time before he lifted the girl, rousing Ghost, and carrying her from the tower.

He got odd looks as he carried her through the castle, Ghost at his heels, to a spare room, where he laid her down and started a fire in the hearth.

Jon stared at the fire for a long while, running his fingers through Ghost's fur as the pup lay beside him. He wondered what had brought the girl to the Godswood, to the Weirwood with the twisted face. He wondered what had attacked her, wished he could ask her.

He turned as she stirred, pushing herself up onto her elbows, placing a hand against her head as she winced.

"Easy, your head is injured," Jon placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and she tensed, her sharp steel eyes meeting his Stark grey ones and then she relaxed.

"You… you're a Stark, I can see it in your face," she breathed, moving so she was sitting upright, her clothes still blood stained but that didn't seem to bother her.

"Yes, I am Jon Snow, my father has left you under my care," Jon hated saying his last name, the bastard name, waited for an insult.

"Then I shall consider myself lucky," she smiled softly and he felt his face burn as she leaned her head back, closing her eyes.

"What is your name?" Jon asked and she batted her eyes open, watching him as he sat at the edge of her bed, Ghost jumping up beside him.

"Leanna of the House Claret," she glanced down at Ghost who blinked at her with his red eyes, sniffing at her fingers. She reached out slowly, touching the end of the wolfs nose before he moved closer, letting her work her fingers into the thick fur on the beasts head.

She smiled as Ghost crawled towards her, laying his head on her chest, blinking up at her as she scratched around his ears.

"I think he likes you," Jon breathed, watching Leanna, her fingers slow and gentle as they combed through the pups fur.

"I think I like him too," she smiled again, she had a nice smile, it made her look less sad, "he's beautiful, I've never seen a wolf like him."

"He's a direwolf, all of the Stark children have one," Jon said, and her shocking eyes drifted back up to his. He liked looking at them, they were strong, yet soft, eyes you could get lost in, "It was Ghost and Robb's pup Grey Wind that found you."

"What happened to you?"

"I was riding here ahead of my father, to let your Lord father know he sought his council," she ran her tongue over her busted lip and frowned, "I was pulled off my horse by some wildlings. I fell and hit my head, my foot caught in my stirrup and my hip popped, and then… where's my sword?"

"Here," Jon handed it to her and she pulled it slightly from its sheath as if to make sure it were still there, "I cleaned it for you, while you slept."

"Well thank-you, Jon," she smiled, placing the sword at her side and then continuing her soft stroked through Ghosts fur.

"I should uh… leave you to rest, I'll send a maid to help you bathe and dress. I'll fetch you in the morning, good evening my lady," Jon stood and Ghost hesitated but followed him to the door.

"Jon," she called and he turned, looking back at her before he closed the door, "all you need to call me is Leanna, no my lady."

"Yes my L- Leanna," he stuttered, blushing and she laughed softly, and he couldn't help but give a soft smile.

"Good evening Jon," she breathed and he nodded, closing the door swiftly behind him and hurrying to find his father.


	2. Ned

"He didn't tell me," Leanna frowned, running her tongue over the split skin on her lip, "he only said he wanted you to know he rode for Winterfell, on urgent business. I also got a feeling he wanted me here before him."

Ned watched her as she spoke. She had impeccable eye contact, her gaze never wavering from his unless it was to blink while they spoke, he respected her for it, looking a man in the eye could be a hard thing to do. However once you met her gaze it was very hard to look away, her silver gaze seemed to draw one in.

She was lovely, auburn hair so dark it looked raven in the shadows and burned like fire in the light framed her face in loose waves, high cheekbones, red lips laced with the slightest hint of scars, her skin the color of porcelain, and her eyes that reminded him so much of a wolfs.

"Well you are welcome here for as long as you need," Ned gave her a polite smile, that quickly faded, "and I'm sorry for what happened on your way here."

"Don't apologize," she gave a smile so sweet, yet so sincere, it was a smile Ned had not seen in a long time, "you couldn't have known I was coming, my father doesn't trust birds."

"My son, Jon, he's been good to you I trust?" Ned asked, folding his hands in front of him as they walked.

"Yes my Lord, he's come to let Ghost sleep in my bed," she gave a soft laugh, "we spent almost an hour one night trying to get him to follow Jon out but he refused to move, just sat there looking at us. He's a nice companion though in the night, but once morning comes he's Jon's again, he's a strange beast."

Ned couldn't help but smile as she spoke, but it was a sad one, she reminded him so much of, "my sister Lyanna loved animals when she was young, you remind me of her."

She gave him a soft smile and he could see the youth in her face, but her eyes said otherwise, her eyes shone with a melancholy, a wariness of age, "thank-you my Lord, I take it as a compliment."

Ned glanced down at the sword at her hip then back up to her face, "your blade, may I see it?"

She pulled it from its sheath, handing it to him hilt first and he took it weighing it in his hands, running his finger along the blade.

"The blade is Valyrian steel, the hilt, and pommel forged of iron, it's called Stardust," she suddenly looked very far away, "my father had it made for me."

"It's a fine blade," he handed it back to her and she sheathed it with practiced ease, "how old were you when you started learning to fight?"

"Ten, my Lord."

"Ten, what prompted it?"

"My father had no sons," she said with a shrug, "and fears for my maidenhood though he'd never admit that would drive him to teaching his daughter to fight."

"So he trained you-"

"In every form of fighting," she finished, "as well as riding and running and climbing and tracking. However I was never much good at hand-to-hand combat."

She stopped as a cold gust of air blew back her hair and stung her face, but her gaze was locked on the Weirwood.

She reached out, running her fingers over the trees face, "I had a dream once," she began in barely a whisper, "of a Weirwood who had become a man. He had a sad face like the one from the Godswood in Greystone, with skin whiter than snow and hair, and eyes dripping with blood. He showed me my mother."

Her voice broke then and she clung to the old tree taking a deep breath, "she died birthing me, and first it was her lying on the bed, screaming as she labored, but then he moved me closer and it was no longer my mother on the bed but me… I screamed as she did. But I did not scream in labor, I screamed in grief, and as I screamed blood ran from my eyes and my mouth, and the more I bled the paler my skin became, the longer I screamed the more my hair turned red."

"And then I was just like that sad Weirwood man, and I could not speak, could not move, but I could hear, and I watched as every face I'd ever seen fell at me feet, praying so desperately. But I could do nothing… and then I saw my brother, kneeling there at my feet, praying for mercy from the old, cruel gods. He thought the gods did not answer but I heard them as they roared, saw them reach out and wrap their hands around his throat as he slept. They gave him mercy, the mercy of death, and then my father came, angry and screaming with fire in his hands."

"His men cut me down and he put fire to my leafs. I tried to scream, to tell him it was me but I could not, and then the gods appeared around me, mighty and faceless, and in numbers too great to count and they struck every man down. I woke before the flames had finished burning me, but I learned something that night Lord Stark," she whispered.

Leanna dropped to her knees then before the Weirwood, and the wind howled eerily around it, rustling its leafs, and bending its branches towards her, as if the great tree meant to embrace her like a sister, as she had been in her dream, "We claim the gods do not hear us, that the gods are unjust. But when my father prayed for a healthy child after my brother, the gods gave him me, but they took my mother. When my twisted brother prayed for mercy they gave him the sweetest they could give, taking him from this world painlessly while he slept. The gods hear us just fine, and answer us in kind, but it's oft not the way we want them too."

Ned shuddered as she spoke and the wind howled, his skin turning to gooseflesh as he looked down at the young girl, her hair caught the light turning it to garnet and her pale skin stood stark against the dark of the rest of the wood, her young face burdened with sadness.

_She is like a Weirwood_, Ned thought to himself with a rather strange feeling in his gut, _burdened with the weight of the world._

She looked far away as if she were with the gods where ever they were, and then she was back blinking over at Ned as she stood.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to trouble you with tales of some dream," she said as the wind picked up again, blowing her hair about her face.

"Your tales don't trouble me," Ned met her eyes, those pale orbs of piercing steel and shuddered, "the truths of them do."

"It's the truths that often do," she whispered, pulling her cloak tighter around herself as the wind howled through the Godswood, showering Leanna in red leafs.


	3. Arya

"Whose horse is this?" Arya asked one of the stable boys, looking up at the pretty garron.

"It's Lady Claret's, your brother Robb found it wondering about the woods m'lady," the stable boy answered quick enough and Arya reached up, petting its nose.

It was brown with white spots, or white with brown spots, and had a long white tail and mane and stunning blue eyes. Its saddle had been removed and it had a few cuts but none too deep and it seemed to have healed fairly well.

"Arya what are you doing here?" Sansa snapped and Arya wheeled around to face her red face sister.

"I was petting the horses," Arya retorted sharply, glaring at her sister then turning back to the garron, "this one's Lady Leanna's, isn't it pretty?"

"It's got blue eyes… that's odd," Sansa frowned but she moved forward, gently stroking the horses cheek before turning back on Arya, "mother is looking for you, you need to wash up for supper."

Arya groaned, placed a kiss on the horse's nose and ran off, leaving her sister shouting behind her and she giggled.

Arya had yet to meet Lady Claret, she was always with Jon, or Robb, or both of them, smiling and talking, and she saw Lady Claret punch Theon once while Robb and Jon laughed. Even from far away she was pretty with her dark, fiery hair, and snow white skin.

Prettier than herself, maybe even prettier than Sansa.

"They say she knows how to fight," Arya told her mother as she twisted her hair to make her look like a lady, "they say she killed ten wildling on her own all with a misplaced hip. I don't believe them but she does have a sword, I've seen her wearing it."

"Ow!" Arya cried as her mother gave her hair a sharp pull and she turned to shoot a glare at her mother, "what was that for?"

"There will be no such talk at the supper table, and do _not_ ask her questions about killing, or fighting, or her sword," Lady Catelyn commanded, "you will be a proper lady, is that understood?"

"Yes mother," she sighed, sitting in silence while her mother finished her hair.

Leanna sat between Jon and Robb, who all seemed to be whispering and grinning about their own little secret jokes as they sat there, making Arya jealous.

Arya sat across from Jon, beside Sansa, and he winked over at her as she sat down, before turning his attention back to Leanna.

Arya couldn't blame him, Leanna really was pretty, full red lips, wavy hair that had been brushed tame, flawless skin, and her sharp eyes caught every sliver of light. It wasn't that she was prettier than Sansa, but she was older, _prettier in a more womanly way_, Arya thought.

She must have been wearing one of Sansa's dresses because it seemed to fit her except in the chest, which she was nearly falling out of, and Arya caught Jon, and Robb, briefly staring.

Leanna was just like Sansa, the perfect lady, she talked pretty and said pretty things when addressed by her Lord father and Lady mother but when her brothers would whisper something to her she'd twist her face and curse at them and they would laugh together.

Once Robb said something and she pinched his leg so hard he jumped from his seat, knocking his knees against the table and going red faced, glaring at Leanna and Jon as they snickered.

Arya wished she could be part of all the fun they were having but instead she sat silent the entire meal watching the trio.

At one point when Jon was whispering over her to Robb Arya caught her watching him, her pale eyes scanning over his face with a strange look on her face. Arya had never seen Sansa look at anyone that way, and she'd certainly never looked at anyone that way.

She looked like she were struggling, her eyes twisted with a sort of sad anger, her mouth a soft bow shape, it was a look the might have almost been regret.

But the look was gone as Jon sat back and Robb said something about wolfs that Leanna didn't seem to like because she pinched him again but she smiled all the same.

"Arya dear," her father said, making her look away from Leanna, "you've been awfully quiet, is something wrong?"

"No father I just," she glanced over at Leanna and then her mother who was watching her carefully, "mother told me to be a proper lady, and not ask Lady Leanna about fighting."

Robb, Jon, Leanna and her father all laughed softly but Sansa had gone red faced and Catelyn looked horrified.

"You may ask me all you'd like about fighting once supper is over," Leanna smiled softly over at the younger girl.

Arya held her to it, almost as soon as supper was over Arya was spewing out questions and for once it was just Leanna, and her.

"So how many Wildlings were there truly, I've heard tales there were ten, and you had a misplaced hip," Arya kicked a stone as they walked outside.

Leanna smiled ruefully, "there were only three, and I did have a misplaced hip but that wasn't until two of them had already been slain."

"Why did your father teach you to fight?" Arya asked as they sat side by side on a bench outside, though it was dark and cold Leanna seemed not to mind.

"Something happened when I was young that made him fear for me," she said gently, her eyes going completely silver in the moon light.

"What?" Arya asked curiously, looking up at the pretty older girl, watching the way her eyelashes casted shadows across her cheekbones.

"Maybe I'll tell you when you're a bit older," Leanna glanced over at her and Arya scowled but decided not to push, though now she was curious.

"Could you teach me to fight?" Arya asked hopping down off the bench, "I know a little bit from watching my brothers fight."

"If your parents would allow it perhaps," Leanna smiled, "but anything you think you've learned you'd have to forget."

Arya scowled, "forget?"

"Women and men are very different, and have to fight very differently," Leanna stood, gently guiding Arya into the right position.

Arya stood sideways, with her knees loose but not bent, and her arms ready at her side though she had no weapon.

"That's how you would stand," Leanna said, and Arya notice that something in her face had changed.

She was no longer the sad, polite Lady Leanna; she was a fierce, disciplined soldier, her eyes sharp and intense.

Leanna opened her mouth to speak but the words died with the sound of hooves on stone and she turned as a host of three strange men on horse rode onto the grounds.

"Father," Leanna breathed and before Arya could say a word Leanna was running to him and Arya could see the man's smile in the dark as he dismounted, wrapping his daughter in his arms, and holding her close.

Arya watched as the father and daughter spoke in hushed tones, Lord Claret's arm around his daughter's slender shoulders as they walked towards her.

"Father this is Arya Stark, Arya this is Lord Timmen Claret," Leanna said and Arya gave a respectful nod and Lord Claret smiled.

He had dark, greying hair, skin more golden than his daughters, and pallid grey eyes, yet there was something about their faces that was alike

"It's a pleasure my Lord," Arya said politely and Timmen smiled, he had his daughters smile, close lipped and sad.

"The pleasure is all mine my little lady," Timmen said and Arya felt herself blushing though she wasn't sure why.

She like the way he had called her little lady, it hadn't been a jape, she could tell by his voice it was meant to be endearing.

"Lord Claret," one of Lord Starks men said, "I shall let Lord Stark know you have arrived."

"There is no need if the man is asleep," Timmen stopped the man and the young man looked a bit confused.

"Lord Stark has not yet retired, m'lord," the man said and Timmen nodded.

"Then by all means go," the man nodded and hurried off leaving the three of them and another man walked over.

He wore the Claret colors and sigil; he looked to be twenty, with a still young face, wide brown eyes, and sandy colored hair. He smiled over at Leanna as he approached and she smiled back, but it wasn't the way Leanna smiled at Jon, it was the way Arya smiled at Jon.

"M'lady," the man said to Leanna and then to Arya.

"Arya this is Nikolai, he often trains with me," Leanna said and Nikolai smiled, but his smile wasn't like the Claret's, it was happy.

"And I often lose," he admitted though he didn't seemed ashamed by it, which either meant Leanna was a good fighter, or he was a fool.

Eddard appeared then, smiling at Timmen and clasping the man on the shoulder before glancing over their daughters and Nikolai.

"Arya, you should be in bed," Ned said gently, and she opened her mouth to protest but Leanna placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Forgive me my Lord, I shall bring her to bed," Leanna offered, kissing her father on the cheek before leading Arya up to her chamber.

Arya sat quiet while Leanna untwisted her hair and brushed it out, slow and gentle, and helped her undress and settle into her bed.

"Leanna," Arya called before the girl could leave and she turned, blinking back at Arya with eyes that had gone black in the dark, "did your father teach you to fight because of a man?"

She wasn't sure why the thought had occurred to her, perhaps it had been the way she looked at Jon when he wasn't looking, or the way she looked at Theon when he _was_ looking, or what she had told her just a moment ago. But they all seemed to pile onto one another and a man was the only conclusion she could come to, though she wasn't sure why.

But she judged from the look on Leanna's face that she had judged right, her face becoming suddenly guarded and eyes sad.

"Yes," she whispered, softly looking suddenly more sad then she usually did, "good evening Arya."

And then she was gone before Arya had another chance to speak, leaving her alone in the dark.


	4. Ned 2

That night Ned dreamt he was in the Godswood, moving toward the pale Weirwood as it stooped over by the water.

Crimson hair cascaded over milky pale shoulders as she stood, turning to him as he moved closer. She stood naked before him, her skin smooth and white as new fallen snow, her eyes red as blood, and her full red lips had been sewn together and she beckoned him closer.

She was beautiful, lithe, lean and petite with a woman's figure and shocking sharp eyes that watched him as he moved closer, until they stood face to face.

He reached out, touching her hair which felt as sleek as any silk he'd ever touched, and her skin was warm and soft beneath his fingers.

Ned looked into her eyes as she pressed herself against him and her ruby irises and could see his reflection, could see he was young again, as he had been when he and Robert had won the Iron Throne.

She pressed her sealed lips to his, her fingers creeping down the bare skin of his back as his moved to her waist. He thought of Cat, but this wasn't Cat, this was a young woman, and he was a young man and his willpower was fading from him as her fingers moved across his skin.

He pulled away then and froze as the color drained from her red eyes, turning to pale silver orbs and suddenly he realized it was no Weirwood who stood before him, it was Leanna, as she had been in her dream.

She opened her mouth then, ripping the stitches free, blood running down her chin and neck as her grip tightened on him. She leaned forward pressing her lips to his ear but when she spoke it wasn't Leanna's voice he heard, it was his sisters.

"Promise me Ned, promise me," she whispered.

Ned woke with a start, drenched in cool sweat as he blinked at the darkness, holding his head in his hands as he tried to breathe.

"Ned is something amiss?" she whispered sleepily, her fingers moving up his arm, wrapping around his shoulder.

"Nothing love, just a dream," he whispered to his wife, pressing his lips to her forehead in the dark before moving from his bed.

He dressed and left his wife asleep in their chamber, but even awake, he could still feel Leanna's fingers on his skin, see her torn lips and sad pale eyes, and hear her whisper, _"promise me Ned, promise me."_

Gooseflesh rose on his skin as he shuddered, but he dismissed it as he made his way through the castle.

It must have been his and Timmen's conversation that stirred his mind, and twisted his dreams in such a way.

"I have no son, no heir to Greystone," Timmen had said, solemn as ever, "Ned Leanna's all I have, and if I could I would just pass it off to her."

Ned had already assumed this was what it had all been about, but this had confirmed it, made him a bit uneasy.

"I'm getting old Ned," Timmen sighed, "and Leanna is soon to be a woman and needs a husband, and I trust you Ned, I trust your son."

Ned knew he had meant Robb, but at the same time he had seen the way Jon had looked at Leanna, and the way Leanna had looked at Jon.

But none of that mattered when you were a Lady or a Lord with a claim to your name, your claim was what came first, love came later if it ever did come.

He wondered how Robb would take the betrothal, no doubt he would be pleased but if Jon had expressed his interest in her he wouldn't have it. But he knew exactly how Leanna would react, she would smile and say it was an honor and she would love him, and maybe someday she really would love him, but she wouldn't today.

He stopped, not sure where he was going staring up at the full moon out the window.

He had done his duty, just as Cat had, and they had made it work through all of it, they had fallen in love. It took time, but they managed to grow into it.

The breeze blew through cool and soft, and it turned his skin to gooseflesh as it seemed to whisper, "Promise me Ned, promise me."

He closed his eyes and again he saw those ruby irises, he watched as the color bled from them, turning them that sad silver white. And then he could feel her lips on his, sealed shut , and then he was watching her tear her lips apart, shredding them into loose, ugly strips of angry red skin.

He opened his eyes and shuddered, turning back to his room and making his way through the halls, pulling his robe closer around himself.

Ned stopped, watching a flutter of glowing white dance across his vision, before it briefly disappeared.

He moved towards it listening to the soft sound of someone singing, and the rustle of cloth as they moved.

Ned moved closer and could hear her then, clear as day, her voice high a soft and haunting, one of the most beautiful voices he had heard in a long time.

_Gentle Mother, font of mercy,_

_Save our sons from war, we pray._

_Stay the swords and stay the arrows,_

_Let them know a better day._

_Gentle Mother, strength of women, _

_Help our daughters through this fray._

_Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,_

_Teach us all a kinder way._

Ned finally game into view of her, Ghost at her heels as she walked through the halls, singing soft as if only to the direwolf.

"You have a lovely voice," Ned said and Leanna turned around slightly wide eyed and then she turned red faced, smiling bashfully.

"Thank-you, I did not think anyone else was awake my lord," she said stopping and dropping down to scratch behind Ghost's ear.

"Neither did I," Ned confessed watching as she straightened, her crimson hair cascading over her small shoulders and he swallowed.

"I should be asleep, but I felt restless," she said, glancing over at him with those strange eyes, "and had a bad dream."

"It seems bad dreams plaque the halls this night," Ned offered with a smile and she smiled back politely.

_She's a perfect lady, just like Sansa, but she's a fighter too, just like Arya_, he thought as he watched her, lithe and lean, just a white wisp in Sansa's sleeping gown; _she'll be good for Robb._

"I'd best retire, if it please my lord," Leanna said softly.

"Of course, sleep well Lyanna," the slip had been purely that, a slip, but he felt his mouth go dry as his jaw dropped and Leanna's look closely mirrored his own, but it quickly turned to an understanding smile.

"Good evening my lord," she kissed him gently on the cheek and turned, leaving Ned abashed and blushing behind her.


	5. Leanna

"_It will hurt, I promise it will," he whispered, brushing her hair out of her face, "you may scream, you'll want to scream, but you mustn't cry, do you understand?"_

Leanna woke with a sharp gasp, grabbing out blindly and snatching his collar, pulling him close enough to press her dagger to his throat.

"Leanna, it's me," he coaxed and her eyes finally focused, there were no brown eyes before her, just wide grey ones.

"Jon," she breathed letting him go and pushing her hair out of her face, closing her eyes and letting her wave of panic pass, so strong it threatened to drown her, but she managed to take a deep breath and break through, blinking up at Jon with cool eyes, "sorry."

"Are you alright?" He asked, straightening slowly, working his fingers through Ghost's fur as the direwolf moved towards him.

"Fine, just a dream is all," she breathed, pushing aside her blankets and standing, shaking out her auburn waves across her slender shoulders, turning to see Jon staring with softly flushed cheeks.

"King Robert will be arriving soon, it would be best if you ready and ride out with everyone," Jon said, and she knew he meant with everyone but him.

"I see," she whispered, "I'll be down in time."

He left her then and her handmaid took his place, brushing out her hair, and tried to twist it into some extravagant fashion but she stopped her, only allowing the maid to pull a few pieces from her face, and then she helped her dress in another one of Sansa's gown. This one was white and grey and they had managed to find a red sash to tie about her waist. Sansa's dresses were beautiful, but she always felt like she was suffocating when she wore them, the material so tight across her chest there was almost no room to breathe.

She moved down to the main halls, walking quietly outside, heading for the stables to give Strider some attention before they rode out. She had raised, and trained the paint horse from a foal on her own, and that blue eyed horse was the only one who knew all her secrets, and seen her cry.

"What do you want?" her mood suddenly soured as Theon stepped in front of her, grinning down at her with that infuriating smirk.

"Why do you assume I want something?" He stepped forward, his grin widening as he teased.

"Why wouldn't I assume you want something," she snapped, and then sighed, "I'm not going to waste my time on you, I have a horse I would much rather tend to."

Before she could step around him his hands was on her arm and she felt a sickening twist in her gut as he pushed her hard up against the wall, bruising her back and forcing the air from her lungs. She could feel his breath on her face, hot and humid; feel the heat of his hands through Sansa's dress. She opened her mouth to speak but the words died as his lips smashed against hers with bruising force, and her heart turned to stone in her chest.

Leanna stood ridged and wide eyed, _"it will hurt, I promise it will,"_ she heard his voice as if he stood whispering in her ear, so soft, so gentle.

She lashed out, bringing her elbow into his neck, loosening his grip, and she punched him hard in the gut, then in the throat, and kneed him in the groin, sending him choking, purple faced to the ground.

"Touch me again," she hissed through her ragged breathing, spitting blood from her freshly split lip, "and I'll cut off your cock and shove it down your throat."

She turned sharply on the ball of her foot leaving him curled on the ground, her breathing still ragged and erratic, as she stormed outside. She was all stone and ice on the outside, but it took all of her being not to collapse onto the ground and vomit.

"Leanna," Robb's smile quickly turned to a look of concern and he rushed forward, taking her face in his hands, "what's happened, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she breathed, inhaling the cool outside air, letting it clear her head, letting it calm her, "I just stumbled and my lip…"

The words stilled in her throat as Robb reached out, wiping the blood from her chin ever so gently with his thumb, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

His eyes, Tully blue eyes, beautiful eyes, his mother's eyes, with his father's solemnity behind the pools of blue.

She'd never really looked at Robb, fair skin, bright blue eyes lined in dark lashes, and his mother's auburn hair.

"Robb," Ned frowned as the two teens pulled away and instinctively Leanna reached up to cover her lower lip, but not soon enough, "you should go ready to ride out, Leanna I'd like to speak with you."

Leanna watched Robb walk away before glancing up at Ned as the older man stepped forward taking her chin in his hand.

"Will you tell me what really happened?" Ned asked and she was tempted to bite her lip but refrained and settled for a sigh.

"Theon," was all she said.

Ned let go of her then with a strange look on his face, his sad grey eyes guarded, "you'd best go as well, the horses are ready."

She went without another word, placing a gentle kiss on Striders nose and scratching the horse's massive jaw as it lowered its head, leaning into her and she smiled.

She weaved her fingers through the horses mane, pressing her forehead to it's before placing another peck on its nose as a stable boy moved to help her mount.

She rode out between Robb and her father, wondering where Jon was, if he was watching them from some hidden place somewhere or if he was wondering the castle.

She wondered if he cared.

Robb looked good in his father's colors, grey white and black, but it made his blue eyes seem more grey, and his hair more red. He was handsome, tall and lean with a strong jaw, and full lips, and he had been kind to her, open, friendly enough.

She turned her gaze away from Robb as Ned dismounted to welcome the king who clasped him by the arms and laughed.

The queen sat cool and beautiful, with her golden hair and green eyes, her children all sat beside her, Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella.

She'd never met Joffrey but she didn't like the look of him, full, pouty lips, golden hair, and green eyes laced with a mischievous coldness that made her gut twist.

But Sansa didn't seem to see it; she just stared at him with that dreamy stare. _Of course she wouldn't see it_; Leanna thought bitterly, _she's too innocent._

"I wasn't expecting the pleasure of the company of the Claret's," the king pulled Leanna from her thoughts and she turned to look at the king.

She heard he had once been handsome when he was young, much like his younger brother, and she could see it in his bright blue eyes, and dark hair, but his had been clouded by glutton and age, making him look like an old, fat man rather than a king. But what did a king look like?

Rhaegar was how she imagined a king, beautiful, and tall and strong, she wondered what it would be like to see a Targaryen, with their silver hair and amethyst eyes, she was sure they were beautiful.

"The pleasure is all ours your Grace," her father said for her, but the King only smiled, he was looking at Leanna while she looked at him, trying to peel away what the years had done, to see the handsome man beneath.

"And this must be Lady Leanna," Robert said glancing over at her father than back at her, "you've got your mothers eyes, and hair… well you're quite all your mother!"

Robert laughed then and Leanna blushed softly, but it hid the quick jab of sadness that tightened her chest, "I saw that auburn hair and almost thought you for a Tully, so much auburn in one place."

Leanna glanced over at Robb and found him staring at her rather oddly, his deep blue eyes swimming with too many things to pin one down and so she turned back to the king who was now speaking to Ned once more.

They rode back in silence and she spotted Theon, still smirking, and felt the strong need to hit someone, or hit him, but she balled her hands into fists at her side and tried to stay composed.

He had a bruise already on his neck and that gave her a bit of satisfaction but not enough, _I shouldn't have threatened him,_ she thought ruefully, _I should have just done it, not given him another chance to take advantage of some else who cannot defend themselves._

She turned blinking down at the hand Robb was offering her as she prepared to dismount, and gently reached out, placing her hand in his.

She couldn't hold back her gasp of surprise as she leapt down; stumbling, but Robb caught her body against his, his hands going to her waist as they both staggered to keep their footing.

Robb's touch was strong, yet gentle, his hands warm, and she suddenly realized how big his hands were, wrapped around her waist, strong hands for fighting, yet gentle hands for loving. She met his eyes, deep and ever-changing as the ocean, and she found herself wonder how it would feel to have those hands sliding up the back of her shirt, running through her hair…

But she'd wondered the same thing about Jon.

She heard the king laugh and she blushed, snapping out of her reverie, and the two quickly pulled away, casting their gazes aside.

"Oh to be young again, ay Ned?" Robert grinned and a strange look flickered across his grey eyes, a mix between what might have been hope, and approval.

She glanced over at her father to see he had the same look on his face and she felt her stomach twist and her heart turn heavy in her chest, and she turned to find Jon but he was nowhere to be seen.

_I wonder if he cares_, she found herself thinking again, following the host inside the castle in silence.


	6. Tyrion

Tyrion sat in the loud hall, drinking spiced wine and eating black bread, watching Jon Snow watch Leanna Claret who laughed and blushed beside Robb Stark.

_Poor boy,_ Tyrion thought as he chewed, _a bastard _and _in love_.

"Brother," the tall, golden man sat before him with his laughing green eyes, trying to follow his gaze, "you seem awfully thoughtful, or you're looking at someone."

"The latter," Tyrion told Jamie, who had been the only one of his family who seemed to acknowledge he was indeed, _family_.

"Well who are you looking at so intently?" Jamie asked, watching Tryion's vision flicker to Leanna then back down to his food.

"The Claret girl? She's a bit young for you brother," Jamie grinned teasingly and Tyrion rolled his eyes, "she is pretty though, but only silver where Lannister are gold."

"Indeed," was all Tyrion said but he couldn't help but think, _bloody gold is all Lannisters are, but Claret's are silver and blood._

Tyrion watched as the girl stood, excusing herself, and striding quickly, and gracefully from the room on long legs, but not before casting Jon a quick glance.

_Now this is interesting_, Tyrion pushed himself wordlessly from the table, waddling after the girl on stunted legs.

"My lady!" He said as he exited the dining hall and she turned, blinking down at him before giving him a warm smile as he approached.

"Good evening my lord," she said softly, and much to his amazement it sounded sincere, "to what do I owe the honor?"

"I only wished to speak to you, I've never met a Claret," Tyrion motioned and they walked side by side, Leanna's strides shortened and slowed to match his, "I bet you've never seen a dwarf before either."

"You'd lose that bet Lord Tyrion," she said, smiling sadly over at him, "I spent most of my life with a dwarf."

"Did you really?" Tyrion frowned up at her, "and how did you befall this misfortune?"

She laughed softly, sadly, "My elder brother was a dwarf, no taller than you, with my mother silver eyes and fathers dark hair. He used to read me stories, he would cheer for me when he watched me train, and sometimes when I would have bad dreams I would sneak into his bed and he would whisper stories about our mother until I fell asleep."

"You loved him," Tyrion breathed in disbelief and she glanced over at him with and odd, sad look, _she always looks so sad, I suppose she has a right to._

"Of course I did, he was my brother," she said, folding her hands in front of her, "my father had to lock me in my room the day they told me he had passed in his sleep. I had screamed until I had no voice and beat my hands bloody against the door."

"But you did not weep," Tyrion said, he knew what the men called her, 'Leanna dry eyes', and the women claimed she must have a stone heart to never weep, but seeing her now, he doubted her heart was made of stone, her eyes were too sad.

"No," she whispered, crossing her arms as if she were suddenly cold, "I do not weep."

Tyrion stopped blinking up at her, _she said do, _Tyrion thought as she turned, staring down at him in confusion, _she does not weep._

"Why?" Tyrion asked, moving forward so he was standing before her, "why do you not weep?"

She knelt down before him, taking his face in her slender hands, her piercing eyes met him with a steady stare and he found it oddly unnerving, "I once promised someone I would not cry, I honor his memory by keeping my word."

"You know," Tyrion said softly, "I have a weakness for cripples, bastards, and broken things."

"Am I so broken?" She whispered, letting her hands drop, but her eyes didn't, those eyes, so sad, full of life beyond their years.

"Good evening my lord," she said before he could respond, placing a soft kiss on his brow before shifting to her feet with flawless grace, leaving him to watch her skirts as she walked away.

"She's strange isn't she?" Jon snow said bitterly, leaning against a stone column his white wolf at his side, "one moment you think you have her figured out, the next you learn a new secret she's been keeping."

"Most people keep secrets to protect others," Tyrion said watching the bastard, his eyes dark, angry, but hurt.

Jon stayed silent, just glowered at the ground, his mouth pressed into a hard line, "gods you look like your father."

"That's what they say," Jon shook out his dark curls, blinking over at Tyrion, "she is strange though."

His voice wasn't bitter any more, it was just hurt, as if she had somehow betrayed him.

"She knows more about being a bastard then you ever will," Tyrion suddenly felt defensive, turning to the boy, "_bastard_._"_

"I know plenty about being a bastard, imp," the boy bristled.

"Oh? You grew up in a castle, trained like a lordlings son, fed like a lordlings son, you sleep in a warm, soft bed, and you've never faced more pain than a scraped knee," Tyrion said sharply, "you don't know anything about being a bastard other than being called Snow."

"And what would she know about it? What would you know about it?" Jon snapped back, his white wolf silent at his side.

"That's not for me to tell," Tyrion said, "as for me, all dwarves are bastards in their fathers eyes."

"If you really loved her," Tyrion said with sudden tenderness, "you have to let her go, she's a lady, her claim doesn't allow her the luxury of love before duty. With a claim to your name duty will always come before love. No matter how much she loves you she cannot choose you, and she's wise enough to know that."

Jon just looked at him, his expression impassive as Tyrion spoke, _he knows I'm right, _he thought, _he just doesn't want to._

Jon moved away wordlessly, his white wolf trailing behind him and leaving Tyrion standing alone in the middle of the hall.

He sighed and closed his eyes, and when he did he saw silver.


	7. Jon 2

They had made a show of it, the high born Lady who moved like a fox, and struck like a snake.

It had started with Bran and Tommen sparring, and Theon had made a smart comment about how Leanna seemed to have forgotten her sword which had caught the king's attention.

"Can you use it?" Robert's eyes glittered as he looked down at the lithe girl before him in her crimson gown.

"Yes, your Grace," she spoke politely but her eyes never left Theon, they were dagger eyes, cold as ice and sharp as steel and it made even Jon cringe.

She had immediately been sent to change into trousers and a tunic and high boots, her blood red hair had been pulled back out of her face, making the angles of it seem all the more severe and sharp, her big eyes focused.

"If you start crying," Theon said, twisting his dulled tourney sword with a smirk, "I'm going to feel bad."

"If you start crying," Leanna snapped back, her body poised and placed with deadly grace, a harsh smile creeping across her own face, "I promise I won't."

That got the crowd going, a few men laughed but none louder than Robert who clasped Timmen by the shoulder.

Jon leaned forward from his perch above, and behind them all, watching.

Theon made the first move, and she quickly danced around it, bringing the flat of her blade hard against his backside, sending him stumbling forward with a yelp and the men hooted.

Theon wheeled around enraged but Leanna only smiled coolly as he moved again, she spun to the side, her blade landing hard on his knee sending him staggering to the side, she sent another blow to his gut doubling him over, another blow the back of the head with her pommel sending him to his knees, and she rested the point of her blade against the base of his neck, her face cold, and hard, "dead."

The men shouted, whistling and stomping their feet, Catelyn and Sansa looked horrified, Cersie looked oddly pensive, and Arya was shouting with the men.

_She moves so fast, _Jon thought, _before he even had time to recover from the last blow she was already hitting him again._

Much to the queen's dismay Robert sent Joffrey, who just stared at Leanna as she curtsied stiffly and the poised herself once more.

Joffrey slashed at her and she danced to the side, spinning and landing behind him, and jabbed and she slid to the side, he cut and she ducked beneath the sword, he stabbed and she jumped back.

_She's not even hitting him, _Jon frowned watching the prince become frustrated, and tired his breathing heavy, _she's wearing him out._

She continued her dance until Joffrey swung to slow, leaving him open, and in a flash her sword was at his collar bone, her cool eyes on his, "dead."

Jon though Joffrey was going to attack her, but he only fumed, threw down his sword and marched back to his place beside his mother, huffing and panting.

"Bastard!" Robert shouted and Jon froze as the king stood, turning from side to side before her turned and spotted him behind them, "Snow, your turn!"

Jon leapt down and told Ghost to stay, moving over through the ring of people and taking the sword offered to him, facing Leanna.

He looked up at her and his gut twisted as he met her eyes, those damn big, sad, sharp, beautiful eyes, her cheeks slightly flushed from the cold and exertion, and her full lips parted as she watched him with a passive expression, but there was something in her eyes, something that might have been quilt.

_Duty before love, _he thought as he tightened his grip on his sword, _I'm just the bastard in the way._

He wasn't going to make the same mistake the other two had made; he circled her slowly, watching her, making her strike first.

And she did, catching him in the shoulder as he tried to move back. He lunged then but she turned out of the way, and she lunged but he managed to catch the blow on his sword.

Her sword arm lunged and recoiled as quick as a snake, so he had to time it just right. They dance back and force with the sound of steel against steel as they caught each other's blows, one after the other.

And then her sword went spinning from her hand but before Jon could bring his sword back down she plowed into him with a grunt, throwing her shoulder into his gut sending him stunned and breathless to the ground, Leanna on top of him.

He managed to grab her wrists, rolling on top of her but her elbow collided with his jaw, filling his mouth with the taste of copper and turning his vision red.

They rolled, and grappled in the dirt for what seemed like forever until Leanna finally came out on top, elbowing him hard in the shoulder as he tried to reach for her and he cried out as he felt something pinch, and then he fell still as he felt the cold bite of steel against his throat.

She was breathing hard through her teeth, her hair had come loose and hung wild and tangled around her face, her silver eyes ablaze, and damp as she stared down at him, blood running down her cheek from the split skin over her cheekbone.

He didn't remember hitting her, but it had all been so chaotic, so desperate, and he reached out to touch her face, "Leanna…"

She slapped his hand away and pushed herself to her feet, wincing and favoring her right leg, throwing the sword down beside him, sending up a cloud of dust.

No one cheered now, they only stood and watched in a strange eerie silence that made Jon feel as if the whole world had just stopped.

She limped over to the king, bowed and said, "I would ask your pardon now you Grace, if it please you."

"Yes you may go," Robert watched her as she straightened, "both of you."

She gave a deep nod and then limped away leaving Jon alone sitting in the dust. He pushed himself to his feet and it took more effort than he thought, he bowed to the king, and then ran after Leanna.

"Leanna wait, please!" He called as he saw her walking through the hall which seemed suddenly desolate and empty.

He caught up with her and he reached out to grab her shoulder, "Leanna please, I-"

"_You," _she wheeled around, jabbing her finger into his chest, her eyes angry, and sad, "you've ruined _everything!_"

Jon watched her as she panted her face still red and covered with blood and dirt, "if you hadn't come along… I was supposed to come here to fall in love with Lord Stark's son but I fell in love with the wrong one damn it! I fell in love with you, you damned bastard!"

She was still breathing hard but the anger faded and now she just looked tired and torn, her eyes going watery as she blinked up at him.

In a fit of frustration she rubbed the water from her eyes so hard that when she moved them away her eyes were red, making the silver more alive against her damp lashes.

And before he could stop himself he reached out, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into him, and he kissed her.

It was a harsh kiss, angry, frustrated, confused, torn, passionate and hungry. She kissed him back just as zealously, her fingers knotting in his hair and pressing her body against his.

He let his hands wonder, sliding up her shirt and running up her sides, before running his fingers lightly over her back and she sighed against his mouth, allowing him to press his tongue against hers, exploring her mouth.

He was dizzy, elated, and _hot_, suddenly aware of the feeling of his clothes against his skin, and how heavy they seemed now.

It was all too good, too sweet, too perfect, he could smell her, taste her, _feel _her and having it made him realize how much he had wanted it, his hands moving across her back, to her waist, to her hips, pulling her closer.

He stumbled forward, pressing her back against a column and pulling away just long enough for her to push his shirt over his head and onto the floor.

Her slender fingers moved across his chest, feeling the lean muscle beneath, and she dug her nails into his shoulders as he sucked at her neck and she let out a needy, sweet moan.

The sound sent a warm, strange feeling through his gut and made him want more, his hands exploring more of her body, trying to pull another sound from her.

But all he got was a sharp gasp and they both turned to see a wide eyed, rad faced Sansa, her hands over her mouth, looking completely horrified.

Jon swallowed hard as his mouth went suddenly dry, his mind going blank, all the warmth leaving him in a rush and he let out a shaky breath, "Sansa-"

She dropped her hands, took a quick step back, lifted her skirts and she ran.


	8. Arya 2

**A/N: I wanted to thank everybody who has been leaving me reviews, and followed and favorited the story, they're truly appreciated. And ThatGirl54, your review made me laugh :]**

**I'm stuck at home today because I fell asleep at the beach and my back down to my ankles is so sunburned that it's blistering, so I might be able to get a few chapters out today, but no promises. **

The trio had fallen apart.

Leanna seemed hardly able to look at Jon, Jon looked hardly able to look away from Leanna, and Robb seemed oblivious to it all.

Leanna spent most her time with Robb now, and if she was with Jon it was always with someone else, and she always seemed strained, drawn thin when she was around him.

Arya wondered if it was because of the fight. Maybe Leanna was mad because Jon had been the only one to put up a real fight, but Leanna wasn't that kind of person, and she knew better somewhere deep down.

Sansa was acting strange too, every time she looked at Jon she seemed to remember something she needed to say but she forgot again before she could say it.

_Everyone is just being strange,_ she thought, scowling as she walked with Nymeria, the Direwolf padding along beside her.

"Except you," Arya said aloud to the wolf that was now the size of a normal dog, "you never act strangely."

Nymeria blinked up at her, turning its head slightly to the side to look up at her and Arya placed a quick peck on her head.

Maybe it was the king being there; even her father and mother were acting oddly. Maybe acting oddly was just part of being grown.

She looked up at the grey sky, the sky was always grey, and the tall towers that were a darker grey against the sky. _I bet Bran is up there somewhere, flitting about the towers like he's a crow, _Arya had never shared her brother's love for climbing, the heights scared her.

_I'd never tell him that though_, Arya saw Leanna sitting alone, her hair braided over her shoulder, her face down turned as she read a book held open in her lap.

"Hullo Arya," Leanna said before Arya could even speak her eyes still scanning the words on the page before looking over and closing the book.

"How did you know I was there?" Arya hadn't made too much noise, and Leanna had been reading, she hadn't even looked up.

"I could see you," Leanna smiled, "even if I wasn't looking at you. Besides, I could hear the wind blowing your dress about."

"Oh," Arya sat on the bench beside her, Nymeria lying down at her feet, "what are you reading?"

"Legends of the Children of the Forest," Leanna turned the black leather bound book over in her hands, "I wonder if any of them are true."

The skin over her cheekbone had healed to an angry red line, but it was still there, her only wound from the entire day, while Theon and Jon had turned out bruised and sore.

"You could always go beyond the Wall and try to find them," Arya said, "They say there are giants and Others beyond the Wall too."

"If I was brave enough I might," Leanna smiled sadly, "maybe one day I'll have to courage."

"But," that made no sense; Leanna was the bravest person she'd ever met, "I didn't think you were afraid of anything."

"Everyone is afraid of something Arya," Leanna reached out, tucking a stray piece of hair out of Arya's face, "I'm afraid of a lot of things."

"I doubt the Hound is afraid of anything," Arya said, thinking about the man's dark eyes and ugly melted face.

"I'm sure he'd never admit he was," Leanna shrugged, "but I'm sure he'd never willingly get too close to an open flame."

"What are you afraid of?" Arya tried to think of something the solemn faced, strong willed girl could be afraid of.

"Well… I'm afraid of losing my father, I'm afraid of failing, I'm afraid of not being able to protect the people I love, and I'm afraid of hurting the people I love."

"Why would you hurt the people you love?"

"Sometimes," Leanna seemed suddenly pensive as if she were contemplating her explanation, "you do things you feel you have to, but sometimes they are hard things, and sometimes those things can hurt the people you love, not physically necessarily, but it still hurts them."

Arya looked up at the older girl, watching pieces of her red hair blow across her pale, serious face. _She's like a Weirwood; she always has the same look on her face._

"Are you afraid of Jon?" Arya asked and a brief look of surprise crossed Leanna's face before she shook her head, "are you mad at him?"

A thoughtful look came over her face then and she chewed her bottom lip, looking back down at the book in her hands.

"Is it because of the fight?" Arya asked.

"Why would you think I'm mad at him?" Leanna asked like one asked a question they already knew they answer to.

"Well because, you're never alone with him anymore, and when you are together you hardly ever look at him, but he just stares at you, and then Robb hardly seems to notice any of it at all because he's so busy staring at you too," it all came out in a rush Arya hadn't really meant to say but it was too late to take it all back.

Leanna smiled then, a soft, genuine smile that soon turned to a soft laugh and Arya sat stunned into silence. She's never heard Leanna laugh; she had a pretty laugh, soft, and ringing like wind chimes.

Arya immediately felt the fool and felt heat rush to her face and she looked down at her hands, folding them in her lap.

"You are very observant," Leanna said then, still with the slightest hint of a smile on her lips, "I am not mad at Jon, I thought I was but I'm not. It's just that my betrothal to Robb has… changed our relationship."

"I don't ever want to be a lady," Arya crossed her arms, "everything seems so complicated, when you're a man you can just fight… except for you. You can fight too."

"I'm going to give you advice on fighting Arya," Leanna said, taking her hand and Arya turned to meet her silver eyes, "you must never fight because you want to, only because you need to, and you must always know when it is the time to fight. Does that make sense?"

"I think so," Arya frowned, "but what do you mean about the time to fight?"

"Well not all fighting is with a sword," the wind stirred loose strands of her red hair again, "you for example, fight whenever you feel threatened, you need to learn when not to fight. Your sister Sansa needs to learn when to fight."

"Sansa cannot fight, she's a lady," Arya tried to picture her sister fighting as Leanna had and had to hold back a giggle.

"I'm a lady, and I fight," It almost sounded like a question and she arched a thin eyebrow, her eyebrows were redder than her hair.

"Well that's different, you're not like Sansa. You're strong and not afraid to say what you really want to, Sansa only says things she thinks people want her to say, or does things people want her to do. She'd probably cut off her hair, and burn all her clothes if the Septa told her to."

"But you wouldn't?"

"No," Arya said incredulously, "I'd cut off her hair if she has any, and burn all _her _clothes."

That made Leanna laugh again and Arya decided she liked it when Leanna laughed, it made her look less sad, and it reminded Arya that she was still just a person.

"Well then," Leanna smiled, "your Septa better be careful."


	9. Jon 3

It was official, and had finally been made public, his father was to go to Kings Landing and serve as the hand.

And Leanna was to marry Robb.

It made more sense now, why she had been actively avoiding him. He thought maybe it had just been the wild kiss but, it was more than that.

_Duty before love,_ he felt a sharp pull in his chest that caused an inner ache as he thought of her. He saw her wild red hair, her icy, watery silver eyes that he nearly drowned in, he saw her full red lips, felt her slender fingers moving across his skin, heard her gasp…

But he couldn't think of her that way anymore. She was to marry Robb, and even if something _did_ happen to Robb, Jon would have to be legitimized for them to even be considered.

"Looks like it's just you and me," he sighed, looking down at Ghost who simply blinked up at him with those red eyes.

He had tried to make himself hate her, resent her, even feel hurt by her, repeating her words over in his head, _you've ruined everything! You damned bastard._

But he couldn't overlook the fact that after that he had kissed her, and she had let him. That made it even harder to push her away, because he knew she felt the same.

Again he thought on what the Imp had said, it was like some kind of riddle, but he couldn't bring himself to ask Leanna.

"She knows more about being a bastard than you do … bastard." But he didn't understand, they had been simple words, but her father loved her, and she loved him, and she seemed happy.

"Women will be the death of me," he told the wolf as he walked. And if it wasn't Leanna, it'd be Lady Catelyn.

He'd never seen anyone hate so strongly. He understood her anger, but he had done nothing wrong, he didn't ask to come back to Winterfell with his father, he hadn't asked for any of it, so why was she so mad at him?

_I'm just the bastard in the way, _he thought again, pulling his cloak tighter around him and making his way towards the springs beneath Winterfell.

It was always warm there, and there was never anyone there. He liked going there to think, or sometimes just float in the water.

"Stay," he told Ghost and the wolf laid down, blinking up at him.

Jon dropped his cloak as he came inside, working at the laces of his boots when he heard a splash. He stopped, scowling as he saw nothing.

He went back to his laces but he heard it again, the softest drip of water against water as someone broke through the surface.

Silently sliding off his boots he moved over to the nearest rock, crouching behind it and peering around, but he only saw the surface of the spring.

Jon scowled and went to straighten but dropped back down, nearly falling and gripping for the rock as a mass of dark hair broke through the surface.

Long, dark hair, dripping and soaked straight hung over pale shoulders as the woman sighed, rubbing her face, oblivious to him.

She pulled her hair over one shoulder, revealing a display of nasty purple, black, and green bruises, and Jon felt his heart flutter and his mind go blank as the light caught her hair, turning it blood red.

He knew he should leave, get up and sneak out and she would never know, but he couldn't look away from the beads of water rolling down her lean arms, still thin but slightly muscled, over her shoulders, and across her slender back.

It became suddenly unbearably warm and he felt rather dizzy as he watched her run her fingers through her fine hair, water running down her face, across her full lips and rolling down her neck, across her collar bone and then joining the rest of the water.

_Leave, before she sees you, before you do something stupid, _but she was turned around now and even if he had wanted to he wouldn't have been able to leave or she would have seen him.

Her eyes looked so pale, and so bright against her dark, damp lashes, and hair and he suddenly realized how small she wall, naked and vulnerable.

There was something different about her now, before she had always seemed so tall, so regal, so composed, even when she was relaxed. But now she looked small, and broken, and fragile, and _lost_, as if the slightest breath would send her to pieces.

He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry and it seemed hard to swallow, still leaning heavily up against the rock.

His legs were beginning to cramp and he immediately regretted not leaving while he had the chance, and he pulled at his tunic which had begun to stick to him.

She turned again and Jon held his breath until her back was fully to him. He braced himself, grabbing his boots and getting ready to spring.

But his legs were stiff and he stumbled, dropping his boots and letting out a rather indiscreet curse as he caught himself on his hands and knees.

He winced as he heard the sharp splash of water as she turned, "Jon?"

Slowly, he turned to face her, meeting her sharp, surprised eyes and he felt his stomach flip. He couldn't explain it, but her eyes, _stirred_, something in him, made his nerves buzz, and his head light, made him want to reach out and touch her.

"Where you watching me?" she blinked at him, sinking a bit further into the water.

Jon licked his lips, looking away from her eyes and instead watched her hair float around her shoulders along the surface of the water.

"I can explain," he began, "I came down here to wash, but then I saw you and I… I didn't want you to see me so…"

"You didn't want me to see you?" She sounded more amused than angry, "Was it because you were fully dressed, or because you just didn't want me to see _you_?"

Jon didn't know how to respond, his mind reeling as he pushed himself to a sitting position, trying not to look at her, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," she looked down, _she_ broke eye contact, swirling her fingers around the surface of the water and he severely wished she would stop, "I'm still… confused about us."

"There is no us," he breathed dutifully, but he was watching her hand move along the water, watching the way her body swayed, and curved, and moved, the way her silver eyes came back up to his, and he knew he didn't mean it, and she did too.

"If only it were that simple," she whispered, and he suddenly realized they had drifted closer; he sat on the edge of the spring with his feet in the water, while Leanna had stepped just within arm's reach, "to just say it and it be true… do you want there to be an us?"

_No, you're to marry Robb, because you're a lady with a claim, and duty comes before love, and I'm just the bastard in the way_, but none of the came out, instead he just breathed, "yes."

And then his hands were in her hair, and her hands were on her shoulders, and their mouths met in the middle.

His hands moved down to pull her out of the water and into him, and she tangled her fingers in his hair as he pulled her into his lap. The front of his clothes were now soaked through but he didn't care, he let his hands wander over her soft skin, across her back, down her arms, up her legs, and it was all too sweet.

Her fingers worked under his tunic, sliding it over his head, and then going for the laces of his pants, their lips only parting for short moments.

He knew how wrong this was, but he couldn't help it, she was so soft, and warm, and smelled like roses and tasted like mint.

He moved a hand to go between her legs, "Jon?" And they both froze.

Leanna slipped, quick and silent under the water and Jon dropped in up to his chest, smoothing back his hair just as Robb walked in the room.

"Jon," Robb looked slightly flustered and Jon swallowed hard, "have you seen Leanna? Her father has been looking all over for her."

"I'm afraid I haven't," Jon was surprised by how easily the lie came, how natural it sounded, "but I'll tell her you're looking if I see her."

Robb nodded and then left.

Jon waited a moment before reaching down and pulling at Leanna, who came from the water coughing and sputtering.

"That was too close," she said sharply, moving away from him, keeping her eyes down cast, "Jon we _cannot_ keep doing this."

It hurt how miserable she sounded, and it only made it worse to know it was hard for her too, and he sighed, "I know. But you can't keep avoiding me either, someone is going to notice."

"Arya has," Leanna said meekly, running her fingers through the water again, "she asked if I was mad about the fight. I don't know how else to handle it Jon, it hurts to look at you, to be so close I could touch you but I _can't_."

Jon couldn't look at her anymore and knew what she meant, "your father is looking for you, it could be urgent."

She kissed him then, it was a soft, long, lingering kiss, unlike the hurried, desperate kisses before, and then she pulled away.

"Good evening Jon," she breathed, pushing herself from the water, and he had to force himself not to watch her walk away.


	10. Leanna 2

Bran had fallen and since then she had hardly left Robb's side. Everyone had wept, except for her and it made her feel cruel.

She watched Catelyn, Arya and Sansa weep, watched Ned grow teary eyed, and even Robb shed a tear, but she just stood, holding hands, and kissing cheeks.

Jon kept his distance, and for that she was thankful. She tried to focus on Robb, to comfort him, speak to him, and give him sound council as a good wife was meant to do.

_Wife,_ she wasn't meant to be a wife, at least not the way she was expected to be. She would be expected to stay home and weep while her husband went to war, not ride out beside him.

Lady Catelyn hadn't even left Bran's room since he fell, she hardly ever left the boy, so stricken with grief she hardly even ate. It was hard on Robb though he wouldn't admit it, but Rickon constantly cried, and complained because she wasn't there and Leanna did her best to soothe the boy but she wasn't his mother.

Leanna followed Robb wordlessly up to his room, watching him drop down into a chair and burry his face in his hands with a sigh.

She bit her lip, watching him run his hands through his auburn hair before stepping forward. Her fighting instructor had taught her a trick when she was young and prone to headaches after they would practice something strenuous.

At first he stiffened, as she reached out, kneading at the tense muscles on his shoulders and neck, and then he relaxed, settling back with a soft sigh.

"What am I going to do now?" he sounded slightly lost, as if truly unsure what to do, and he closed his bright blue eyes as she loosened a knot in his shoulder, "I'm to be the Lord of Winterfell."

Leanna smiled softly at his tone of disbelief, the slightly innocent shock, and she leaned her lips close to his ear, "does that mean I have to call you my Lord?"

He laughed softly but whatever response he had planned was lost in a soft moan as she loosened another knot in his neck.

"You're pretty good at that," he sighed as she slid her hands under his tunic, so she was working just against his skin.

"I had a good teacher," she smiled, gasping as he grabbed her hand, spinning her around and into his lap, her hands going to rest on his chest while her eyes focused on his.

He truly had beautiful eyes, bright blue, and lined in those dark lashes that held the slightest hint of red to them.

He reached out, cupping her face in his hand and running his thumb over the pink line over her cheekbone, before moving down to trace her bottom lip.

And she was overwhelmed with a feeling of guilt as she instantly thought of Jon.

"I know you were in the springs with Jon last night," Robb said softly and she felt her mouth go dry and her heart stop, "I just don't understand why you hid."

"Robb," she took in a shaky breathe, "I just… I was weak, and it's a stupid excuse but, I feel like he's always there. And I know you're a Lord now, and so much has been going on but…"

She trailed off, tracing patterns across the fabric over his chest, "I feel like whenever I need someone he's just… there. Nothing happened I swear it, just a kiss, nothing more."

He took her hand to still it and her eyes flitted up to his and a quick look of surprise flickered across Robb's face as he saw they were watery.

"Robb I'm so sorry," she whispered her fingers curling around his and he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, holding her against his chest.

"You need not apologize," Robb ran his fingers through her hair, pressing his lips lightly to her temple, "you've done nothing wrong."

"But I should have stopped him, I shouldn't have let him even consider it," why was she now feeling so guilty? Perhaps it was only because Robb knew, whereas before she could have carried on like nothing had ever happened, but now she couldn't pretend.

"You were right, I should have been there for you too," Robb took her face in his hands as she pushed back to look at him, her eyes down dry, "you're just so … _strong_, I don't think of you that way."

"My father told you then," she turned away from him, "what happened when I was young?"

"Yes, he told me, and it is a terrible thing for a child to face," he took her chin and turned her head to face him again, his eyes suddenly stern, strong, defiant, possessive, protective.

"And I swear to you I will never let you face such a thing again," he sounded so sure, so determined that she wanted to believe him, "_I _swear it."

"Robb-" her words were lost as his mouth pressed against hers. His kiss was different from Jon's, his had been frantic, needy, almost a bit angry, but Robb's were soft, slow, but no less passionate as his hands crept over her back, pulling her closer into him.

She let him, wrapping her arms around his neck and closing her eyes. This was right; this was how it was supposed to be, wrapped in his arms, loving him and being loved by him. But it wasn't the same as it was with Jon, with Jon it didn't feel right, it felt good.

"Robb have you seen… oh," they pulled apart quickly to face a flush faced Sansa, her face as red as her hair, her blue eyes averted, "Father would like to speak with Lady Leanna."

"Of course," Robb smiled, blushing as Leanna moved from his lap, brushing back her hair, and smoothing out her dress.

Leanna followed Sansa wordlessly down the hall for a short while before saying, "you must think me a whore."

Sansa choked, turning wide eyed and red face to Leanna, "I beg your pardon?"

"You've walked in on me kissing both of your brothers now," Leanna said slowly, turning to look over at the younger girl.

"Jon _Snow_ is not my brother, he's a bastard," Sansa said proudly and Leanna couldn't help but smirk ever so slightly.

"He's your father's son, so bastard or not he's still your _half_-brother," Sansa frowned, still lady-like, her chin held up ever so slightly.

"Besides I don't know what you see in him, Robb is by far much more handsome," Sansa stated matter-of-factly.

_This is _too_ easy, _Leanna couldn't help but smile.

"I bet the queen also thinks Ser Jamie to be more handsome than her brother Tyrion," Leanna said softly.

"That is very different, Tyrion is a _dwarf_," Sansa said incredulously, but still polite, still lady-like.

_She's so serious, she cannot even see I'm just trying to mess with her_, Leanna frowned.

"And Jon is a bastard, all dwarfs are bastards in their fathers eyes," Leanna said solemnly, leaving Sansa speechless as she pushed open the door to Lord Eddard's study.

"Your Grace," Leanna went to bow, then caught herself and curtsied quickly while the king watched with a slightly bemused expression, then turned to Eddard with a deep nod, "my lord."

"My wife is not happy with the way you bested our son," the king said with mocking anger, "and believes you should be punished though you didn't even touch the boy. Though I think you did the boy a favor, so if she goes asking, just tell people I gave you a stern talking to."

"Of course, your Grace," she smiled wryly and the king chuckled.

"You're an awfully clever girl, and I was wondering if you could tell me something," Robert said, his grin leaving his face.

"If I can, your Grace," she frowned, glancing at Lord Stark but he looked as confused if not more so than her.

"What was his name, the young man?" Leanna felt suddenly light headed, and suddenly cold, and she licked her lips.

"I do not know your Grace," she lied, but she had told the lie so often, it seemed like the truth.

"Clever indeed," the king snorted, "you may go now."

She bowed and left in a hurry. She passed Robb's chambers and headed outside, blinking back tears that the cold wind brought forward and making her way towards the stables.

She ran into the Hound, stumbling back but he caught her arm before she could lose, or regain her footing holding her firmly in place and she blinked up at him, meeting his eyes.

"I beg your pardon," she said softly, righting herself, and even still he held her arm, so tightly it hurt, but she wouldn't let him see that.

"I believe it's me you should be begging," his voice made her cringe and want to cut his throat out but instead she just turned to face him.

"Prince Joffrey," she said politely.

"You know, your eyes are quite unnerving, they bother me," the prince scowled, "I think I might have my Hound take them out."

"They say my eyes can see through a man, and shouldn't bother you," she said mockingly, "unless you've got something to hide."

Her vision danced with stars as his hand came down hard across her cheek, filling her mouth with blood, but Sandor's grip kept her from staggering.

"How dare you speak to me that way! I am the prince," Joffrey snapped, as her cool eyes met his blazing one, blood running down her chin.

Sandor stood still as a statue, his face expressionless, and his grip cold and unforgiving as any statues might be.

"And the prince beats defenseless, unarmed women? Or do you only dare raise your hand to me because you have your Hound to hold me back," this earned her another blow, a punch to the gut that might have doubled her over had Sandor not been holding her.

"You hit like a girl," she gasped, smirking at him with red teeth.

The next blow caught her in the jaw, causing her vision to falter and he knees to buckle beneath her, her head spinning.

"You will regret ever being born into this world," He pressed a knife to her collarbone, drawing an angry red line across the pale skin, letting it come to rest at her throat, "that is a promise."

"A Lannister always pays his debts," she mocked and he raised the knife, his eyes ablaze, but her gaze never left his.

"What in the seven hells is going on here?" Tyrion's voice brought Joffrey's hand down as he turned to look at his approaching uncles.

"She attacked me," Joffrey said, suddenly flustered and flushed.

"So you made Clegane hold her in place while you beat her, and slit her throat?" Ser Jamie raised an eyebrow.

"His Grace takes me to seriously," Leanna said dryly, "I simply ran into his dog by pure accident, but he claimed I kicked him, and thought to punish me similarly."

Rage flickered through Joffrey's eyes, blazing as Ser Jamie and Tyrion gave soft looks of amusement.

"Well I believe the punishment has been served," Tyrion said, "and you may go now."

Joffrey fumed but stormed off, Sandor finally letting her go and following after. Leanna leaned back against the wall, spitting blood in the dirt and wiping her chin along the back of her hand.

"You're awfully brave, and awfully foolish to speak to our nephew in such a way," Jamie grinned and she shrugged.

"I've faced worse men than your nephew," she said straightening and taming back her hair, a bruise already forming on the left side of her jaw.

"And the Hound?" Tyrion asked.

She looked down at him, her gaze cool and serious as she met his mismatched eyes, and then she grinned "he's just big."

Jamie chuckled shaking his head, and Tyrion couldn't help but smile back.


	11. Jon 4

They had all mounted and said their goodbyes, and were ready to leave and Jon let out a deep sigh, looking over at Leanna who was holding hands with his father, speaking in hushed tones.

Eddard Stark kissed the young woman on the forehead, and turned his horse about as she moved back to take her place beside Robb.

The wind had turned her cheeks a soft pink, her lips blood red, her eyes somehow even sharper than before, and the wind blew her garnet red hair around her pale face. She parted her lips to sigh and looked down, her long lashes casting wispy shadows across her cheekbones and Jon felt a twisting pull in his gut.

He turned away as the company left, he wasn't sure what, or rather who had done it, but Robb had convinced Lady Catelyn to let Jon stay.

Leanna turned and he scowled at the dark purple bruise on the left side of her jaw, and realized her lips were swollen from being split rather than the cold, and there was still a faint pink line across her cheekbone.

She swayed and Robb quickly wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his side as she pressed a hand to the side of her face, hastily leading her inside.

Jon stood still for a moment before following after, hurrying over to the small group crowded around a very pale, shivering Leanna.

She met Jon's eyes and his breath caught as her face hardened, "I'm fine," she breathed, pushing away Robb's hand, lifting her skirts as she made her way up stairs.

Robb turned and sighed when he saw Jon, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly, and he suddenly looked tired.

Jon knew, Robb hadn't said anything but Jon knew Robb knew about him and Leanna. And he felt a wave of guilt every time he saw his brother, and then an even stronger one when he saw Leanna.

Jon opened his mouth to say something when Ghost ran by, bounding up the stairs and Robb scowled, raising an eyebrow.

Jon just shrugged and took off after the wolf, always a few paces behind no matter how hard he pushed, or how many steps he took at a time.

He stopped in front of Leanna's door, where Ghost sat, pawing silently at the door, blinking at him with red eyes and Jon sighed.

"Damn wolf," he mumbled.

"Leanna?" He knocked on the door, gently pushing the wolf to the side as he leaned against the door. When there was no answer he pushed the door open, slowly, cautiously peering inside.

His heart stopped and he leapt forward, dropping to his knees and pulled Leanna into his arms, pulling her off the floor and cupping her pale face in his hands.

"Leanna," he whispered, pulling her against his chest, as her eyelids fluttered but remained closed, and she let out a low groan.

Her skin was past warm, it almost hurt to touch her hot flesh with his cold fingers, yet even still she shivered and shuddered as he eyes fluttered open. She blinked up at him with cloudy, feverish eyes and let out another whine, curling into his chest, pressing her face into his neck, her hot breath trailing across his throat making him shudder.

"I'm so cold…" she whimpered, and he wrapped his arms tight around her, brushing her hair out of her face and holding her close.

"Leanna you're sick, I'm going to take you to the maester," Jon said softly, slowly, wondering if she could even hear him.

"Don't let him hurt me," she mumbled, obviously disjointed, and confused as he stood, holding her bridal style, her face still pressed into his neck.

"The maester won't hurt you Leanna, he'll help you," Jon said softly, hurrying to the maester's tower, "I promise."

She mumbled something then but Jon didn't catch it, scowling as he pushed open the maester's door and laying Leanna down on the cot.

Luwin hurried over, knowing what to do without being told, feeling her forehead, pressing his fingers to her throat, and then hurrying off to create a tonic.

Jon reached out, taking her hand in his and she squirmed, blinking unseeingly up at the ceiling, and Jon felt his heart contract and his lungs deflate as she whispered a name.

It wasn't his name, it wasn't Robb's name, it wasn't any name he knew, but it held so much, pain, fear, hate, yet need.

All it was, was a simple breathe, "Doriath," but it shook him to his core as it brought tears to her eyes bright with fever.

"Leanna, who's Doriath?" He breathed, leaning close. He really hated to try and ask, but he was afraid to ask when she was fully aware.

She didn't answer, and Luwin was over so quick he didn't have time to ask again, so he rocked back on his heels, watching as Luwin coaxed a tonic down her throat.

"Do you know the name Doriath?" Jon asked when Leanna drifted back into a fever and tonic induced sleep.

"I'm afraid I don't," Luwin frowned, looking over at him as Jon weaved his fingers into Ghost's fur, "why do you ask?"

"Just wondering," Jon shrugged, entwining his fingers with hers as Luwin turned away, pressing his palm against hers.

It hurt to be this way, but it hurt worse to be so close and not touch her, to see her this way and not wrap her in his arms and kiss her face.

"Why'd you have to be so damn easy to fall in love with?" He whispered as her watched her, her face completely relaxed, her chest rising softly with her even breathing, and he reached out running his thumb over her bottom lip, stopping and resting over the split skin.

He sighed and went to stand but her grip tightened on him and he stopped, blinking over at her, meeting her groggy, but focused eyes.

"Don't leave," she whispered softly, pleadingly, "please, just stay with me for a little while."

He nodded, sitting down on the edge of the cot and brushing her hair back out of her face, stroking her cheek, and her hair until she drifted back to sleep.

He blinked rapidly as his eyes began to burn, and lump formed in his throat that hurt when he tried to swallow and his jaw hurt from biting down on his back teeth.

He leaned down, pressing his lips gently against her forehead, closing his eyes and sitting there for a long moment before pulling away, gently pulling his fingers from hers, and stood, turning and leaving the room before he could look back.


	12. Jon 5

**A/N: So I'm kind of skipping a lot here but nothing really climactic happens with Leanna between the last chapter and now so I figured I'd just cut out the middle man. Thank you guys for all the reviews and comments, they are greatly appreciated.**

Greatjon grumbled as he stared but all the men were watching her, it was hard not to. She wore black high boots, red trousers, a white blouse with long sleeves, and Stardust hung at her hip, her hair pulled back out of her face in a braid.

She had ridden to Greystone and now she rode back with a cavalry of one hundred men and one hundred horses, and her lord father.

The Trident and the Frey's had both been gained but only at the cancelation of Robb and Leanna's betrothal.

"You need Riverrun and the Frey's, and if that means marriage so be it," Leanna had said, "you will have the support of Greystone with or without a betrothal."

Now she dismounted and led her steed forward, smiling warmly as she approached Robb, Jon, and Greatjon

"It is a pleasure Lord Umber," she gave a deep nod then turned to Robb and Jon and grinned, "gods I missed your faces."

Jon couldn't help but smile back but Robb still wasn't happy about her being there.

"This is war Leanna," he had told her, "it's no place for a woman."

"I know how to fight, and I will not sit here like some helpless maiden, weeping and waiting while you declare war," she snapped.

He had argued further but she wouldn't budge and he finally caved, but he didn't have to be happy about it.

Lord Timmen came over next and he and Greatjon clasped hands before Greatjon said, "You've got quite the gem there Timmen."

"Aye, that I do," he smiled watching as Leanna knelt and scratched Ghost behind the ears, running her fingers through his fur and planting a quick peck on the tip of his nose, smiling as he licked at her face.

"We march on Riverrun tomorrow," Robb stood in his tent with Lord Timmen, Leanna, Jon, Greatjon, Lord Rickard, Lady Mormont, Ser Stevron, and Lord Jason.

Leanna sat in the corner as she listened, huddled up beside Ghost, running her fingers through his fur, and resting her head on his back.

In an attempt to draw Ser Jaime from his camp, Robb would send a small force of a few hundred men carrying Tully colors to lure him out. It was a good plan, and the trap would more than likely work but only because it was the Kingslayer, anyone else and it might have been folly.

Everyone was given subordinate commands except for Jon and Leanna who were to stay with Robb during the fighting.

"Tomorrow will be a long day," Leanna said as she dragged the whetstone across a long knife, "you should be resting."

"_You_ should be resting," Jon watched her from where he sat, Ghost lounging at his feet, "you rode all day, and you'll be riding all day tomorrow too."

"It's a good thing I'm a good rider," she kept her eyes down on her work, moving the whetstone along the blade with practiced ease.

"Are you scared?" She asked, looking up and watching the people move about the tents before looking back down.

"I suppose I am a bit. Are you?" he glanced over at her, it had gotten easer, over the months in Winterfell, to just be friends, but it still hurt to look at her and see how beautiful she was sometimes.

"Of course," she looked up at him, her pale eyes scanning his face for a moment before she continued, "fear is normal I think, I think it's odd not to have fear. My teacher used to tell me you could not have courage without fear, wisdom without folly, or love without hate."

"I think you're odd," he said and her elbow hit him just hard enough in the ribs and he scowled over at her, "Ow."

"Oops," she shrugged, smiling innocently over at him and batting her lashes. She slid her knife into her belt and knelt before Ghost taking the wolfs massive head in her hands.

"You take care of him you hear?" She whispered to the wolf, looking into its red eyes, "he's a bit of an oaf, and he needs you."

"And I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Jon smiled watching as she kissed Ghost between the eyes then stood.

"Good, that's what I planned on," she grinned and Jon shook his head, nudging Ghost with the toe of his boot but the wolf hardly lifted its head.

"Do you suppose Robb's plan will work?" Jon asked, scratching at the dark stubble growing over his jaw.

"I think it's a good plan, and I think Jamie Lannister is mad enough to fall into it," she said honestly, "Robb obviously does too."

Jon stood and so did Ghost, so big he now stood level with Jon's hip on all fours yet he was the last thing in the world Leanna was afraid of and Ghost knew it, padding over and nuzzling at her hand, sniffing at her fingers.

"A shame Theon's not here," Jon said, he knew Theon he would love to be part of all of it, be part of the story, the glory.

Leanna made a rather unladylike sound somewhere in her throat and rolled her eyes, "it's such a shame I think I'll lose sleep."

"Why do you hate him so much?" Jon had noticed the way Leanna was around him, always stiff and cold, and whenever he looked at her she would shoot him a glare so sharp Jon felt it, and Theon would often disappear when Leanna was around.

"Because he's an ass, that's why," she said sharply.

"What did he do to you?" Leanna couldn't be entirely to blame; Theon did have a way of making people dislike him.

"He would have raped me had I let him," she said it so softly Jon almost didn't hear her, and then he thought he heard her wrong.

"Don't worry I left him with a good threat and as long as we are in the same kingdom he probably won't dare touch another woman again," she spoke more confidently now and Jon stopped, and so did she, turning to face him.

"Who is Doriath," he was so afraid to ask he almost didn't but he made himself before he could think on it too long.

"Where did you hear that name?" Her face darkened, hardening into a smooth mask, the only thing that gave any emotion away was her pale eyes, filled with so many emotions at once Jon couldn't pick them all apart, but sadness, he could always find the sadness.

"You said it back in Winterfell once, when you were ill with fever," Jon watched her face as he spoke, looking for the slightest sign.

She gave none.

"Maybe," she chewed on her bottom lip, looking down at her feet, "if we survive through tomorrow, I'll tell you who Doriath is."

"Sounds like a deal," Jon tried to offer a soft smile but Leanna had locked up, and he knew it would be a while until she was back.

"Goodnight Jon," she said softly, walking off without looking back.


	13. Leanna 3

**A/N: Please leave a review and tell me what you think! And the first quote is from The Heroes by Joe Abercrombie, but it's not exact, the point is I'm not taking credit for it :)**

"_War is three parts waiting, and one part fighting,"_ someone had told her once. Before she had almost thought it a jest of an impatient young man, but now she saw the truth of it. They had sat, mounted, and armed for what must have been hours as they waited.

Leanna sat between Robb and Jon on her piebald garron, Strider, clad in a black leather corselet, leggings, and red leather high boots, along with a red half cloak, and steel arm guards over red leather gloves. Her hair was tucked beneath her red hood, which shadowed her face, but a few loose strands hung loose and the darkness made her eyes seem even brighter, _Stardust_ sheathed at her hip.

She looked oddly regal sitting there, her face passive and unmoving, her lips in their constant frown, her flawless skin white as snow against the black and red of the Claret colors.

It had been silent, no one dared speak, or even move, even Ghost and Grey Wind stood still and ready beside Jon and Robb.

And then Lady Mormont's horns sounded, and the waiting was over. Now was the time to fight.

The men drew their swords, and the company rode forward, the Direwolves running ahead, and Leanna took a deep breath, raising her sword as they broke through the brush, and brought a man down on her first swing.

The Lannister host was panicked, disorganized, and few, Robb's men outnumbering Jamie's in thousands, but that only meant that the odds were in their favor.

She became separated from Jon, and Robb in the fray but she hadn't been trying to stay with them either. She kicked aside a man's shield and slashed him across the face, then turned and sliced another man's skull clean in half.

It reeked of blood, and sweat, and fear, and the sounds of men screaming were almost as loud as the cry of horses and ring of steel against steel.

She kicked a man in the side of the head as he came at her, sending him stumbling back as she swung to kill a man on the other side of her.

As she finished her swing the other man regained his balance and grabbed her leg, pulling her from her saddle and she hit the ground, landing hard on her back and she felt the air leave her lungs, her vision faltering and she heard Strider scream.

The man lifted his blade to strike, and then all she saw was white that passed over her in a blur and she pushed herself to her feet, watching as Ghost silently tore the man's throat out.

"Good boy," she breathed as he blinked up at her with red eyes before running off again. She turned as a man swung, catching his sword on her arm guard and it slid off the steel, leaving him open, and she lunged, driving her sword through his throat.

The blood sprayed her face and stung her eyes but she paid it little mind as she turned, spotting Jon struggling with a man who stood at least a head over him and wielded a heavy axe.

She ran, silently, but Jon's eyes gave her away and the man turned, swinging as she came up and she had to drop to her knees to dodge the blow. Jon stabbed and the man blocked, standing so Jon and Leanna were on either side of him, his shield to Jon and axe to Leanna.

Leanna stabbed, and then Jon slashed, and they went back and forth, circling the man like hungry wolves, and then he looked away from Leanna just for a moment as Jon feigned a jab, and she slid her blade into his side.

Jon met her eyes for a long moment and they stood still, just looking at each other, as if they were both waiting for the other to say something. Then Jon gave a brief nod and turned to face the next man and she quickly followed suit.

They were soon out of each other's sight once more and the dried blood was making her face itch and a combination of sweat and blood stuck her hair to her face, her hood long abandoned.

She wasn't sure when it had happened but someone had cut her leg just above the knee, and blood ran down a gash on her upper arm, mingling with the blood of strangers that soaked her gloves.

The longer she fought the more the wounds took their toll, and the heavier her sword became, and the weaker her legs became.

She turned to face the next man and froze meeting emerald green eyes, a smug grin, and golden hair as their swords clashed.

"Lady Claret, what a pleasant surprise," Jamie smiled, his own face soaked with blood and sweat, but there was no weariness in his eyes, only light, only madness.

"Ser Jamie, I almost thought you hadn't come," she breathed, surprised by how hard it was to speak, her breathing heavy and short, and this, somehow, widened his grin.

"And miss my own party? Never," his eyes flashed and she barely spun out of the way as he swung, and she raised her sword to catch his, meeting his eyes again as they pushed against one another.

But he was stronger and she staggered back as he gave a hard shove and she cried out as his blade caught her shoulder, scraping against bone as he pulled the blade down and she staggered back, cradling her left arm against her stomach.

She blocked a blow but it was almost too slow and Jamie could see she was failing, could see how flushed her face was, her breathing so heavy her whole body heaved, and her blood flowed freely now, dripping off her elbow.

"Battle is no place for a woman," Jamie gave a weak cut and she stumbled away from it, and he grinned, "You should know that by now Leanna."

He was mocking her, but she no longer had the strength to care, and he swung at her again, another lazy blow she moved heavily out of the way of.

He jabbed and she turned, catching his arm and sending him staggering to the side with a look of slight surprise that quickly melted back into a grin.

"You're good, I knew you were good the day I watched you fight in Winterfell," Jamie poked at her and she faltered backwards, "but those were only tourney swords, and only left bumps and bruises. But then I saw you take the abuse from Joffery, and I knew you had something special in you."

He swung and she caught the blow, the two so close she could smell his breath and his eyes gleamed as he leaned closer, "but I know what you are. You're just an emotionless wreck of a child that thinks they can fight because they-"

She cut him off, grunting and shoving with all her might, sending him stumbling back and she quickly lifted her sword, shaking her head, "No. No, I'm not a child, I was never a child."

Jamie clicked his tongue, "so serious," he lashed out, smashing his pommel into the side of her head and she dropped her sword, dropping heavily to her hands and knees and she gasped, blinking rapidly as she fought for consciousness, her ears ringing, and she felt suddenly weightless.

"You know who else is too serious? Ned Stark," Jamie sighed, grinning wickedly, "and look where he is now."

"Lord Stark is a good man," Leanna gasped, reaching for her sword, wrapping her fingers around the hilt and taking a deep breath, "and honest man, a loyal man-"

"Unlike me?" Jamie finished for her and for a moment she almost thought she saw sadness, regret in his emerald eyes, but it was quickly gone, "but you see, I'm beginning to notice something. Honest men don't live very long."

She turned on her knees and swung with every bit of strength she had left, but Jamie swung first and there was a loud crack and her vision went red as she collapsed, everything beginning to blur and morph into one shapeless mass of colors and it suddenly felt as if time were standing still. And it was almost peaceful.

And then the world lurched around her, and she felt an arm around her as she was hoisted off the ground, unable to move, unable to speak, her ears ringing maddeningly. But just before the world went black, she could have sworn she heard a wolf howl.


	14. Jamie

**A/N: Someone asked me what music I listen to when I write, pretty much anything Florence + The Machine. Because their music just makes everything seem more epic :)**

Her head rested against his chest as he rode, his arms wrapped around either side of her to hold the horses reins, such a peaceful expression on her face it might have almost been one of sleep.

But he knew better.

He could smell the blood that matted her hair, and covered her face, and the stench of her wound beginning to foul. He had pulled up her hood so that riders at a pacing glance would simply see a hooded girl, but if anyone dared to look closer, they would see her bound hands and bloody face.

Jamie scowled at the setting sun and raised his hand shouting back to the other two riders with him, "we'll stop here for tonight, get some wine boiling, we need to get this wound clean."

The other men, a lesser Lannister and a Waters, did as they were told while he lifted her carefully in his arms, laying her in the grass and doing the best he could to clean the blood from her face and hair.

There was a scar across her cheekbone were Joffery had cut her, and a bruise along the left side of her face he guessed she had received during the fight, and her lips were busted open from top to bottom in an ugly line of ragged red flesh from where his blow had landed.

He rocked back on his heels as he watched her. She had been a good fighter, better than good, she was fast and sure, though she wasn't strong but she knew that. She used that.

When he had approached her he knew she had been done, it would be an easy fight; he could see it in her face, the way she moved, too slow, heavy, as if weighed down by her own body. But she had known it too, and instead of wielding, she had fought to the bitter end, she would have died then and there had she not been important.

In that way she reminded him of Cersie, a woman who acted the part of a lady but in truth, should have been born a man.

But fighting would ruin Cersie's face. Yet Leanna never had a choice, for Cersie it was simply strong will that made her a fighter. Leanna had been made a fighter out of necessity.

_Such a shame too, _he thought watching the sun catch her hair, _she has such a pretty face._

He used the warm wine to attempt to clean out her wound and she gasped, her eyes fluttering open and she squirmed, thrashing violently beneath him.

"Leanna, _Leanna!_" He pushed down her shoulders as she looked up at him, panting, the fog and panic fading from her eyes before they focused on his.

"Jamie Lannister? Damn and I thought you killed me," she grumbled, turning away from him but he could still see the flush in her face.

"It can't be that easy," Jamie smirked, "now will you sit still and let me do this?"

"No," she said sharply, pushing herself upright and holding out her bound hands, "you don't know how, I'll do it."

He surrendered the rag and wine to her and watched as she worked, wincing every now and then. When she finished with her arm she moved to her mouth.

When the wine touched her lips she hissed through her teeth, her face twisting into a grimace and she sat very still, her eyes closed tight and whole body tense.

She went slow, her mouth having been split completely open, hurt worse than anything else. Jamie watched her, sitting silently while the other two men tried not to watch.

When she finished she tossed down the rag and dropped back into the grass with a sigh starring up at the stars.

"Ser," she said suddenly, and Jamie couldn't help but grin, her mouth was swollen and affecting the way she talked, making her sound almost drunk, "why didn't you kill me?"

"Because you're important to those wolves," Jamie said and she sat up again, blinking at him with those pale silver eyes and he quickly looked away.

"You might as well just kill me now," she said softly, "Joffery won't stand to see my face, he'll have my eyes torn out then once that stops hurting he'll kill me."

"No, he won't, Cersie wouldn't let that happen. She knows better than to let the same mistake happen twice."

"Eddard Stark was a good man," she was staring at the fire, her hair hiding her face, "he didn't deserve to die the way he did, he deserved something better than that."

"I won't disagree with you," he shrugged and she turned to look at him, "he was a good man, a proud man, with so much honor he couldn't shit."

He finally turned to look at her and swallowed. The fire caught one side of her face, turning her hair to flame, her eye gold, and giving her skin a soft glow, but the half of her face with the scar and busted mouth was in the shadow, her hair looking like blood, the moon reflecting in her eye so it looked as if she had no pupil, and her skin was porcelain pale. The golden side of her face was bright with little shadows, but the other side was laced with shadows, under her eyes, her cheekbones, around her mouth.

_Like two sides of a coin_, Jamie thought, _the golden half is the innocent child she should be, the dark half is the innocent child she never got to be._

"Be honest, if you're capable," she met his eyes with her mismatched ones and that was almost worse than them being the same color, "what do you have against Eddard Stark?"

"He never trusted me," Jamie shrugged, "so I never trusted him, besides, wolves and lions are not meant to coincide."

She gave an unladylike snort and turned her face back to the fire, away from him and mumbled, "And where does a star stand amongst wolves and lions?"

"Above," Jamie said, earning back her gaze, "a lone star watching from above, that's all you should be. But you chose the wolves; you chose to fall, to fight."

"I _chose_ nothing, Jamie Lannister," she snapped, her eyes blazing, "I've never chosen anything my entire life. I am who I am because that is what I need to be, not what I choose to be."

_But I chose, _he didn't say it because she already knew it, she was silently accusing him with her silver gaze, her scarred face, her busted mouth, _I chose this_.

There was the distinctive sound of an arrow sinking into skin and Waters shouted as the other Lannister fell. Jamie jumped to his feet, drawing his sword and Leanna pushed herself onto her knees.

"What have we here?" the voice came from behind him and Leanna gasped. Jamie spun around hesitating when he saw a hooded man with an arm wrapped casually around Leanna, but the other held a knife to her throat.

"Oi! It's a Kingslayer, a bastard, and a maiden, is there a song about that Hod?" The hooded man asked and another approached, leaner and taller, with sly grin.

"Not yet," Hod got daringly close but still out of Jamie's reach, but Jamie was only watching him from the corner of his eye, his gaze focused on Leanna.

"Looks like you gave her a pretty good time Kingslayer," Hod stepped forward, towards Leanna with his smug grin, he moved like a cat, poised and light, and he had a bard's voice. He reached out and Leanna watched warily as he took her chin in his hand, looking her over.

"Pretty little thing she is," the man holding her said and Hod cocked his head to the side thoughtfully, and Jamie cursed as two more hooded men approached, then another, holding a bow.

"She had Claret eyes, pale as silver," Hod frowned then reaching up, pressing his thumb to her torn mouth, "Shame about this though."

She screamed at the pressure of his thumb against the already aching wound and Jamie winced as he stood helpless, Hod held his thumb there until blood ran down her throat and then he seemed satisfied and pulled his hand away.

He turned on Jamie then, and the bastard, "I suggest you both drop your weapons, I don't want to kill you, you and the girl are worth too much," he nodded to the bastard, "him though, you'll have to convince me to keep him."

"I will pay you whatever you want if you let us go, unmolested," Jamie didn't like the way the brawny man holding Leanna was touching her, looking at her and licking his lips, _she's only a child_.

"Oh I know, a Lannister always pays his debts," Hod pointed to Leanna, "but what about Claret's, what can I get from her? I've heard many stories, but most of them all say that for many years she was a whore, a child whore too. Lost her maidenhead before she was a maiden."

Jamie glanced over at Leanna, her eyes were down and she was shaking, her whole body trembling as if cold, and she looked as if she were suffocating, unable to breathe, her hands clenched in front of her.

"What can I ask from her, she hasn't already done before?" Hod asked with a shrug and a grin, reaching out and touching her face and she gasped sharply, jumping at his touch and then whimpering and it sent a round of laughter through the men and rock into Jamie's gut.

"A thousand dragons if you don't touch her," Jamie said and Hod cocked his head again, he was listening now, "for a thousand dragons you can buy all the whore's you want."

"What of my companions?" Hod wanted to know.

"Five thousand gold dragons."

"And if I refuse and rape the girl?"

"I'll kill you."

Leanna finally looked up, meeting Jamie's gaze and in those eyes he saw so much fear he could feel it and his gut felt tied in a knot, and he suddenly realized how young she really was_, she's only a child, no older than sixteen._

"Well then," Hod took Leanna's arm and the other man let her go, her knees buckling and she fell to the ground, catching herself on her hands and knees and the men laughed again, "I'm afraid I cannot accept your offer."

That was all she needed, she head-butted the brawny man in the back of the legs, causing his knees to buckle and when he fell she rose, drawing his dirk and opening his throat.

Jamie used the sudden confusion to gut the archer, and their third companion quickly followed suit. She held her own fairly well against Hod but she was limited with her bound hands, and he had the advantage of a sword.

Hod punched her hard in the face and she collapsed, and Jamie lunged forward, driving his sword through the man's back and he gasped, blood bubbling in his mouth, "I told you I'd kill you."

Leanna sat very still, her head bowed and hands, which she had at some point freed but the dirk was nowhere in sight, clasped in her lap in the posture of one who was praying and Jamie slowly knelt before her, setting his sword in the grass.

"Leanna?"

And then she lunged, and Jamie reached for his sword, but she reached him first, the impact knocking him off his feet onto his arse, and he froze, wide eyed and shocked as she wrapped her arms around his neck, clutching at the back of his shirt.

"I hate you," she breathed against his shoulder and he smirked, gently reaching up and touching her hair, remembering how afraid she had been, could still hear her scream, _she's only a child_.

"I know."

And then suddenly there was pain, and his world went dark.


	15. Leanna 4

**So Leanna has a weak immune system… and flash back dreams. Please leave a review; I love to hear what you guys have to say!**

"_Doriath!" She could taste her own tears on her lips, her hands braced against his shoulders, his hands gripping her thighs with bruising force, whole body tensed, his hot breath brushing her face as he panted._

"_What my love?" he breathed, leaning down to kiss the tears from her cheeks but they kept coming, her body trembling violently beneath his._

"_It-it hurts, please," the plea died into a scream as he moved, thrusting mercilessly into her and she sobbed, her fingers digging desperately into his back._

"_I... told…you…it…would," he growled between thrusts relishing the soft cries that passed her lips each time he hit her barrier, he leaned down, growling in her ear, "I warned you."_

_It was too much, too much, she felt like she was being torn open from the deepest most sacred place within her, her innocence burning away to nothing within her. She bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep herself from screaming, tears rolling down her temples, into her hair._

"_Don't," he said softly, stilling but there was no relief in the loss of motion, it was almost worse, him just sitting there. He reached out, pulling her lip from between her teeth, sucking the blood from it and she whimpered, bile rising in her throat as he ran his warm tongue over her lip._

"_Stop," she sobbed as he kissed her jaw, her neck, took her small breasts into his hands and squeezed, "please stop, I can't-"_

_He kissed her. Pressed his lips softly to her now swollen ones, his hands cupping her face, wiping the tears from her eyes as she cringed beneath him. He was too gentle now, she didn't want him to be gentle, she wanted, _needed_, him to _stop_._

"_Not everyone will be gentle with you," he breathed, brushing back her hair, "some people will fuck you bloody, leave you in so much pain you'll dream of death. You need to learn now, how to fake it."_

"_I don't want to learn," she whimpered, palms pressed against his shoulders, watery eyes meeting hazy brown ones._

"_No one does," he whispered, and then he moved and she screamed._

She woke with a start, bolting upright and stumbling to her knees and vomiting in the grass. Her hands were bound again, this time so tight it broke the skin.

"Leanna, are you alright?" She jumped at the hand on her shoulder, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, _it's just Jamie_.

"I'm fine," she lied, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, turning to find Jamie kneeling beside her, weaponless, and bound.

She opened her mouth to speak but then she remembered. Waters had knocked Jamie out while he held her, and then more hooded men had come, holding her as she growled, and thrashed in an attempt to fight them.

"Where is-" the words died as a hand gripped her hair, pulling her to her feet and she winced, watching Jamie's expression become guarded.

"Looks like the princess finally woke up," Waters smiled down at her and she had to fight back to urge to spit in his face.

He had messy hair the color of dirt, a square face, and an ugly scar across his nose, but his eyes were a bright, dark blue, that reminded her of sapphires. The most attractive part about him, she decided.

"Perfect, now I can bring you to the king," he turned to the other men, "watch the Kingslayer, I don't want him running off."

Waters grabbed her arm, helping her onto his horse before leaping up behind her and she gasped, her face going red as he leaned into her back.

"Sorry princess, it's early," he laughed, digging his heels into the horse and galloping off. She could see King's Landing in the distance, it would take until noon to get there by her guess, maybe longer, and she was so tired.

She closed her eyes, pretending to sleep so she had an excuse to lean back into a more comfortable position. Waters sang softly under his breath while she faked sleep but she couldn't quite make out exactly what he was singing.

"Wake up," Waters shook her roughly and she blinked, opening her eyes to people staring at her, mumbling and whispering as Waters lifted her from the horse setting her on her feet.

When had she fallen asleep? She glanced around, they were in King's Landing, and they were being escorted by the Kings Guard.

She was still tired, even after all the time she had slept … she was so tired, and she didn't feel right, she wasn't cold but she was shaking, and a cool sweat coated her skin. Her limbs felt heavy, her muscles turned to sand, useless.

"She looks ill, feverish," one of them men said, she couldn't put a name to his face, but Jamie would have known him, he reached out, placing a hand on her cheek and she flinched away.

"What did you do to her?" The man asked, he was young, handsome, still thought he could be a good knight, keep all his vows, the thought brought a bubble of laughter from her chest and one of the other golden guards frowned.

"She's got to have a fever," an older man said reaching out and taking her arm, "we'd best bring her to King Joffery, and quickly."

They lead her toward the castle, but after a few steps her knees buckled and the world went black around her. The older knight saved her, catching her before she hit the ground and she groaned, rubbing at her face.

"Poor girl," the knight mumbled, lifting her easily in his arms and she kept her eyes closed, pressing her face against the cool metal of his armor.

"What is this?" His voice made her want to throw up, and she forced her eyes open, blinking over at Joffery where he sat on the throne.

"By orders of Ser Jamie I bring you Leanna Stark as a hostage," Waters said and the older knight set her down on her feet, stepping away.

_Stark?_ She thought for a moment before her brain comprehended, _he thinks Robb and I are already married._

She stood for a moment, and could have stood longer, but the strength had left her, and she dropped to her knees, wanting nothing more than to lie down on the cold stone floor, but she wasn't that sick yet.

"Clegane, bring her to me," Joffery ordered, and the giant of a man thundered towards her, nothing about his movements graceful, his burnt face twisted into an eternal grimace. He grabbed her elbow and pulled her to her feet, dragging her forward until they reached the foot of the throne and she dropped onto her hands and knees.

Joffery took her jaw roughly in his hand, lifting her face to his and something flickered through his green eyes. _Lust_, it was a look she knew well. She realized her position was rather… compromising, on her hands and knees between the king's legs where he sat on the throne and he seemed to realize it too.

"You will be properly rewarded," Joffery said dismissively to Waters then turned back to Leanna, "and look at the whore. You know my dog has been in need of a bitch."

Joffery pushed her with his foot, and she didn't try to fight, groaning weakly as she was pushed onto her elbows, her forehead resting on her still bound hands.

Joffery laughed and the room picked it up, but the crowd was nervous and she could hear it, but Joffery didn't seem to.

"Look at how readily she bends for you dog," Joffery smiled wickedly, watching Leanna shiver before him, her face flushed, and eyes heavy with fever, "go on, fuck her."

There was a heavy silence for a long moment before Sandor managed a shocked, "Your Grace…. I-"

"I didn't tell you to argue with me, I told you to _fuck her_," Joffery leaned forward, green eyes blazing and Leanna took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

She heard Sandor shift behind her, but he didn't move towards her, for a moment at least. She could hear the hesitance in his movement, hear him take a deep breath. _Fake it_, she heard him say it, as if he were right there, and she opened her eyes, staring at Joffrey's feet. But the fear was still there, turning her gut as if she had been hit, knocking the air from her lungs and making it hard to breath.

"What in the seven hells is going on here?" His voice rang off the walls, accenting the silence in the room, and Leanna had never been so happy to hear the voice of a Lannister.

"Uncle, she was brought here as a hostage by request of Jamie," Joffery spoke calmly, but she could hear the anger in his voice, his little game interrupted.

"Then she should not be tossed on the floor, so your dog can have a fuck, and your court can watch," Tyrion stood beside her now, and he placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

"She is a prisoner," Joffery fumed.

"She is a _guest_, and will be treated according to her station," Tyrion said firmly to his nephew then said, "Bron, please unbind her."

Bron, a dark haired man crouched before her, cutting her hands free but stopped, his dark eyes scanning over her face. He was a mercenary; she could tell by the look of him, mercenaries had an air about them that she never had trouble seeing.

"She is ill m'lord," Bron glanced over at Tyrion, then reached out, pressing his hand to her face and she held his gaze as he scanned over her busted mouth, then to her shoulder. He pulled her shirt aside and grimaced at the angry red flesh and inflamed wound, "and needs a maester."

"Very well," Tyrion sighed, "if you would."

Bron lifted her as easily as any, following Tyrion to the Tower of the Hand. Tyrion led Bron to an empty room and the sell sword laid her down.

Tyrion stood beside her, watching her with his mismatched eyes for a long time before asking, "Who did this to you?"

"Your brother," she didn't want to talk, she wanted to sleep, but Tyrion wasn't ready to let her sleep yet, "Robb lured him into a trap so we could surround and attack him and his men. I faced Jamie and lost, and now that bastard you paid and sent off for me is going to bring Jamie to Robb for more gold."

"Smart bastard then," Tyrion mumbled, watching her lashes flutter, her swollen lips part, her face twist in pain as she tried to sit up. He gently reached out, pushing her back down, "don't, this doesn't need to be unpleasant, so long as you cooperate."

"Where are Arya, and Sansa? I want to see them," she mumbled, but he was losing her to her fever, her heavy lids dragging closed.

"You will, but first you will see a maester," Tyrion stated, "but for now, you should sleep."

She looked up at him for a moment, holding his gaze before letting go, her eyes drifting closed and sleep taking over.


	16. Sansa

**Thank-you guys for the reviews, follows, favorite and patience!**

**I'm sorry, short chapter is short.**

Sansa beside Leanna's bed, staring down at the woman where she lay, her red hair splayed about her head, the blanket pulled up to her chest and tucked under her arms revealing her bare and bandaged shoulders.

She was a woman now, though it had only been months since Sansa had seen the other girl she looked years older. But is was odd, before it had been her features, her sad, wary eyes, her hard mouth, her composure, but her youth still showed in her flawless skin, in the roundess of her eyes. Now it was the other way around, now the age showed in her scarred bruised face, and the youth showed in her closed eyes, relaxed face, and slightly parted lips.

The scar on her lips would be a bad one, her mouth split completely and more towards the corner of her mouth, and the line across her cheekbone was now a pale silver.

It must have been her complexion, but that seemed to be the way all her wounds healed, into soft, almost pretty silver scars that were almost invisible against her pale skin.

Sansa reached out, gently brushing a loose strand of garnet hair out of the girls face, and when she didn't move she moved her fingers through it. Soft, and shiny, brushed through, and through once she had been bathed and stitched up.

Maester Pycelle had cut away the rotten flesh, cleansed it with warm wine, and sewed it together with twenty stitches, without any milk of the poppy, and then Tyrion had sent for her.

She had cried when she first saw Leanna, it had been a mixture of feelings, releif, regret, fear, watching helplessly as she knelt before Joffery. In the moment Joffery had called on Sandor, he might as well have ripped her heart out, she had closed her eyes, covered her face, she couldn't watch it happen. But then Tyrion had saved her.

She wondered if Sandor would have done it, she could see in his face he didn't want to, at least not like that.

Leanna stirred, eye lids flutter and Sansa quickly reached out, taking her hand as the woman's eyes opened, staring vacantly up at the ceiling, a breif look of panic crossing her face, a look of unrecognition, unsure where she was.

Sansa gave her hand a gentle squeeze to draw the girls attention and whispered, "Leanna?"

Silver blinked over at her, scanning her face, her mind working to remember to comprehend, and Sansa sat silent until she worked it out, "Sansa, you're safe, alive," she looked around, as if missing something, "Arya?"

Sansa wanted to cry again, but swallowed back the lump in her throat shaking her head, "no one has seen her since my father-"

"I understand," Leanna said gently, this time she was the one to give Sansa's hand a gentle. Now that she was awake she looked older still, her solemn expression paired with her starved, scarred face making her look five years older than she was.

"Are you in pain, do you need anything, I can call for the maester, or perhaps-" the look Leanna was giving her made her stop, her tongue turning to lead in her mouth.

"He's hurt you," the venom, and malice in Leanna's voice shocked Sansa to her core, her silver eyes cold as ice as she stared up at her.

"No, he never has, he makes his guard do it," Sansa couldn't look away from her, how quickly she had gone from sad, solemn Leanna to a fierce, venom spitting beast that could cut you to shreds just with her eyes shocking her into a state of stillness.

"Damn, arrogant," Leanna growled moving to sit up and as soon as she put weight on her left arm her ferocity crumbled and she winced, falling back onto the pillow and Sansa quickly pulled from her shock, fretting about the other girl, "was it Clegane?"

Sansa shook her head, blue eyes watching the other girl, like one might watch a wild animal, seemingly harmless, but could turn at any minute, "he's never laid a finger on me… he, he's actually one of the kindest people to me here."

Leanna snorted, "It's because your pretty, you'll find men do more for pretty girls, just be carefully. He's not being kind to you out of kindness, he wants you."

Sansa flushed, she had never thought of it that way, he's so much older... "You seem to know a lot about men."

"At a cost," Leanna mumbled, pushing herself upright with her right arm, using her left to hold the sheet against her bare chest.

"I just mean… when I watched you with Robb and Jon, you interacted differently with each of them. You were tougher with Jon, and more gentle with Robb, you seem to know how each of their minds work, you always seem to know what men want," Sansa mumbled.

"I don't always know what a man wants, each is different," Leanna didn't look at her now; she was staring kind of blankly ahead.

Sansa opened her mouth but before she could speak the door opened and Tyrion stepped inside, blinking at the two woman. Sansa watched with mild amazement as Leanna looked at the dwarf, and _smiled_, relaxing ever so slightly.

"Ah, it's my brave knight," she said softly, letting waves of red tumble over her bare shoulders but Tyrion didn't seem to notice.

"You look better," Tyrion smiled back at her, moving over to the other side of her, "a bit thin, but less feverish."

Bron stepped in behind Tyrion, eyeing Leanna the way most men did. His gaze scanned over her bare arms and shoulders, trailing across her collarbone and up her neck, finally coming to rest on her face with a kind of smirk.

"How long have I slept?"

"About two days."

Sansa sat still, hands folded in her lap, seemingly forgotten for the moment before Leanna turned back to her, "how long have you been sitting here?"

"Two days," Sansa answered bashfully, "I wanted to be here when you woke."

Leanna smiled at her softly, a silent thank-you and Sansa gave a soft nod and meek smile back, before Leanna turned back to Tyrion.

"I'm truly sorry about Ser Jamie; you Lannisters have been surprisingly good to me," Leanna said softly, almost hesitantly.

"We Lannisters… well, you know how it goes," Tyrion dismissed it with a shrug, "I shall send someone up with food, if you don't need anything?"

Leanna gave a subtle nod and Tyrion nodded, "we'll talk later," he said casting Sansa a glance, "good evening them."

The two men left and Leanna turned to Sansa, looking at her the way her mother might look at her and it caused a dull ache in her chest, "you should rest, you look exhausted."

Sansa nodded mutely, but before she could stand Leanna reached out, gently pulling her into a one armed embrace, startling Sansa wide eyed.

"I'm sorry Sansa," Leanna whispered, and Sansa blinked as her vision blurred, her eyes burning with tears and she wrapped her arms gently around the other girl briefly before they moved apart.

"Good evening," Sansa breathed, lifting her skirts and turning, walking out Leanna's room without another word.


End file.
